#i am not particularly good w putting characters in outfits

[crunchy-rocc]

are you doing reqs? if not, no worries, but could you maybe do a little sketch of andrew in a skirt? or jean? obviously no pressure

i am always open to requests 🙏 andrew in a long skirt for you

[demiesworld]

Hi! Welcome back!

Can you write where the Hantengu clones catch their roommate walking around half naked because she thought no one was home (can be separate or together, whatever you prefer 😊)?

【♛demie: im going to include this to my hantengu quad squad college au because i read the word roommate and assumed it was for this. i will be doing their reactions separately lol i hope you enjoy this my love! ( ͡♥ 3 ͡♥)】

hantengu brothers reaction to you being half naked

characters: sekido, karaku, aizetsu, urogi, & fem!reader

synopsis: the hantengu brothers catch their roommate walking around half naked.

contents: sfw, swearing, suggestive themes (?)

notes: reader is a female. reader's pronouns are she/her. the hantengu clones are all human in this. they are depicted as quadruplet brothers. they are depicted as having tan and dark skin. they are all in college and their ages are 22.

P.S. I KNOW THE PICTURES IM USING THEY HAVE PALE SKIN, BUT THE ARTIST DREW IT BEFORE THE ANIME WAS RELEASED AND THESE ARE THE ONLY PICTURES THAT ARE SUITABLE FOR THIS.

Today was Sekido's personal day, it was a time off he had away from school, away from work, and most importantly away from his obnoxious, annoying younger brothers. He had put in a request to his job to have this day solely off, he picked this day because it was a holiday away from school, and threatened texted his brothers not to be at the house because he wanted to be at home alone. If they had any complaints against it they could, and his own words, "Kiss his ass"

Although it appeared that the only person Sekido forgot to tell that he was home alone was you. Their only female roommate.

He woke up that late-morning in a particularly good mood. The eldest of the quadruplets did his usual morning routine. He washed his face with a dermatologist recommended sensitive skin facial wash then applied an SPF 30 lotion on his face. He took out his mouth guards that he uses to keep from grinding away at his teeth at night and placed them into a container. As he exits his personal bathroom, Sekido went into his bedroom to grab his laundry basket filled to the brim with dirty clothes.

He carries the basket to the laundry room, expecting for it to be unoccupied and the washer and dryer to be empty. Except for when he slides the door open, he's stunned to say the least, to see you in there. It wasn't that Sekido was surprised to see you, since he knew that you lived there with them, but it was surprising for him to see what exactly you were wearing.

You were only in your sports bra and boy-shorts.

Your back was turned to him, and you had your Airpods in as you were listening to music. You were finishing up your laundry that you had started from the previous night, moving clothes from the washing machine into the dryer. As you were moving clothes from machine to machine, and machine to basket, you were wiggling your hips to the beat of the music that played.

Sekido's face felt warm as he witnessed you bending over at the hip to reach into the dryer and gather your clean clothes just to toss them into a basket next to you. He wasn't as sexually-inclined as his brothers Karaku and Urogi were, but when he saw you bent over like that, Sekido had to control himself from pouncing on you.

He clears his throat and softly stutters, "Y-Y/N," You didn't hear him so he said your name louder, "Y/N," Again you didn't hear and Sekido growls in frustration before shouting, "Y/N!"

The vibrations of your name being shouted pulled you out of your trance and you plucked an Airpod out of your ear. You looked over your shoulder to see Sekido standing in the threshold of the laundry room holding a basket of clothes.

A radiant smile grew on your face, and you greet your fellow roommate, "Mornin' Se-ki-do!" your pleasant and sweet voice sings to him jubilantly.

He grumbles, "It's Sekido. W-Why are you here today and why are you not wearing any clothes?"

You look down at your outfit, "I am wearing clothes Sekido, what are you talking about?"

"You're walking around here naked! Do you always do that when we're not around?"

"I'm not naked, Sekido, I'm wearing clothes."

He huffs and turns his attention away from you, "Whatever! Are you going to be here all day then?"

You shrug your shoulders, "Pretty much, yeah," and nod your head.

"Ugh!"

His other brothers were gone for the evening. Sekido had to work late, Aizetsu was tutoring with some girl, and Urogi was at the gym working out. So for Karaku it seemed like the perfect time for him to walk around in his underwear. Most of the time he would just strut through the house in his grey sweatpants, nothing underneath, and would get chastised by Sekido because his dick would be swinging about.

Like bro, why are you looking at his dick? Weirdo.

Karaku walked out of his bedroom that night only wearing his black boxer-briefs and headed into the kitchen. It was the only opportunity he had to almost free-ball. The second oldest Hantengu brother had free reign to do what he wanted.

He just forgot to remind you, their female roommate, that he was home walking around like this. Though to his surprise he wasn't the only one that decided to walk around the house half-naked. In fact, he wasn't the only one who thought they were alone.

There you were in the kitchen, eating your favorite flavor of ice cream out of the pint. You were dressed in your bra and underwear, something more revealing than your usual modest clothes. You locked eyes with Karaku and jolted when you saw that he was in the house. You thought you had the house to yourself.

He didn't show any sort of surprise or shock like you did. He didn't even scramble to leave the kitchen. Instead he just barked out a laugh, "Hey there twin!"

"What the fuck! Karaku, what are you doing here? I thought you had left for the gym!"

Karaku pouted, "That was Urogi that left for the gym, babe, not me." He goes over to the fridge and searches inside for a snack, "Did you forget that I work out in the early morning?"

Oh yeah that was right. He did work out in the early mornings. You remember now. You poke your spoon into your ice cream pint and take another bite before asking him, "Why are you walking around in your underwear?"

"Touché, honey," He replies to you and he whips out last night's leftovers from the refrigerator to toss it into the microwave. "What are your plans for tonight?"

You shrug your shoulders, "Literally nothing. Why do you ask?"

He grinned at you, "Wanna watch an episode of Chainsaw Man together?"

You couldn't say no to watch one of your favorite anime shows.

"This is absurd," Aizetsu grumbles as he pushes back the sofa in the living room to clean underneath it. "Completely absurd." He grimaces at the trash revealed on the wooden floor. There's opened packages of chips, candy wrappers, and if he squints just hard enough he could see a used condom.

This sucks. He hates that Sekido had given him the chore to clean their living room. Especially when Aizetsu had already did Karaku's and Urogi's assigned chores. Of course the twins offered him money in exchange for doing them, but having to do their work was annoying from time to time. He had his own things to do, and doing his brothers chores wasn't one of them.

But alas they needed to keep the house clean because they had a new roommate among them. A female at that. A girl that all of the brothers, including Sekido, liked because she was only on time with the rent money, tipped in to pay the utilities, and helped around the house when it came to cooking and cleaning.

Speaking of you, Aizetsu wondered where you were today since it was one of your days off from your classes. He didn't see you this morning during breakfast and it was getting to be in the afternoon so you must have went out for the day.

As he was sweeping up the trash on the floor, Aizetsu's back was facing you when you had walked into the living room to take a seat on the couch.

"Aah!" You shrieked, "Aizetsu!"

He was startled by your scream and looked over his shoulder at you with a timid smile. "H-Hey Y/N-" he stopped himself when he saw that you were wearing nothing but your bra and underwear. In your hand, a half-eaten sandwich. "O-Oh I'm sorry for looking!" He screams as he drops the broom and covers his eyes with his hands.

You retort, "I thought no one was supposed to be home! Why are you here?"

"Because I needed to clean the living room it's messy in here! Look you can just d-do you th-thing okay? I'm not going to look at you, I promise!"

You peeked your head out into the hallway from your bedroom's door threshold trying to see if any of the quadruplets were home. It didn't appear to be so. You didn't hear rambunctious yelling or boisterous laughing coming from anywhere. So you assumed that they were all gone for the day. Sweet.

You stepped out of your bedroom just wearing your bra and underwear. You figured since you had the house to yourself, walking around like this shouldn't be a problem. Plus with the brothers gone you could get some school work done without Urogi or Karaku pestering you for answers to simple questions.

A sigh went past your lips as you went into the kitchen and made yourself a quick breakfast. When you were done with that, you entered back into the hallway and nearly had your heart jump out of your chest when you saw a shadow figure go into Urogi's room.

You stood there quiet. It was just you in the house, so whoever or whatever this is was probably an intruder. You gently place your breakfast on an end table beside you, and grabbed a hold of Sekido's tall umbrella.

You stalked in the direction of Urogi's bedroom, holding the umbrella over your shoulder and pushed open his door. Your vigilant eyes saw a back facing you and a shadow rummaging through Urogi's belongings in his drawer.

Without thinking or announcing your presence you whacked the "intruder" with the umbrella.

"Ow! What the fuck!"

"Get out of my house you fucking bastard! I'll kill you!" You shout as you attack him with the umbrella and got him to the floor.

"Hey! Stop it! Y/N stop! It's me Urogi damnnit!"

You pause with the umbrella lifted over your head and were surprised to see your roommate, Urogi, laying on the floor on his back. You lowered your weapon and smile to him bashfully. "Whoops, heh heh, I thought you were a burglar..."

Urogi frowns at you and scoots away so he could stand up on his feet. His body was aching from the numerous times you hit him with the damned umbrella. "What the hell man? That really frickin' hurt ya know?" He rubbed his arm, and then his eyes dawned on your outfit. The youngest quadruplet chuckled, "Good thing to know I'm not the only one who sleeps naked though."

That earned him another hit with the umbrella to the head.

notes: okay so im ngl i ZOOMED through this just to get completed. BUT I HOPE IT'S STILL GOOD LOL tell me what you think in the comments!!

© 2023 demiesworld. pls do not repost on any other websites. do not plagiarize. any similarities referenced is a coincidence.

[krypticcafe]

Hi! I love your writing sm!!! Could I request how the boys + könig would react to a reader with curly hair? (We’re talking tight, kinky coily curls)

COD:MWII Boys w/a curly-haired partner

rating: PG-13

character(s): GN!Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, John "Soap" McTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, König, Hound

warning(s): none

a/n: aw thank you! And I love this request!! I'm not someone with curly, kinky hair, but I hear a lot about how they're super underrepresented. Even I'm tired of the "brushed his hand through your hair" or the "y/n with a messy bun/straight hair" bc PLEASSEE, my hair is a rat's nest, this would not work 💀 Anyways, I hope I did you justice and lmk if I got anything wrong!!

Gaz

Let's be honest, it's nothing new to him. He's experienced with coily, kinky hair, whether it be himself or his family or a friend.

I actually like to think he experimented with longer hairstyles before cutting it for military.

He gets you the most out of all of them, honestly. Knows exactly what you mean when you need a certain product or talk about maintenance, doesn't belittle you when you get upset over your hair, and helps a lot, too.

He doesn't have to do as much maintenance, so he doesn't use too much product, but sometimes he'll eye yours and make a note to try some for himself.

Since you and Gaz can trust each other, you sometimes have nights where you help style each other, just to spend some quality time.

Also yes, you guys have matching bonnets, it was actually his idea. You guys take so many pics together, too.

Gaz will notice if your hair looks healthier or fresher, and while he always thinks your curls are beautiful, he'll make extra compliments so that you know that he pays attention.

Oh, and if you do something special with it? He's all over you, all like, "What's the special occasion? Or am I just lucky today?"

Price

Your hair was one of the many reasons Price had noticed you so much, particularly because the military didn't really allow room for soldiers to do much with their hair and most have to gel it down if necessary.

When you tell him about the amount of care that goes into it, he starts thinking that his facial hair routine isn't so bad after all.

Once you get together, he starts looking into the product you need to get.

Unfortunately, he will have a bit of a hard time, so it's probably best if you show him the ropes for stuff like oils for protective styles, specific tools you use, etc. Otherwise, he'll be wandering around the aisle for a while. Please.

Sometimes, there'll be days where both of you guys take up the bathroom and go through your routines together, it's a pretty good way for him to learn your process and for you to learn his. There's a mutual respect.

Realistically, I don't think you would let either party take over for each other. At least, not for a long time.

If you put on a real nice outfit and let your natural hair out, oh this man will be on his knees, so use that information wisely.

Soap

Ooo, he's obsessed, I'm telling ya!!

Definitely gets stunned at how much it takes for you to take care of those curls, but not surprised that it's so difficult.

He does kinda wonder how you deal with it if you're someone that's on the battlefield.

You definitely had to tell him off for toying with it once, and he has stopped, but it's taking every inch of him to keep his ADHD ass from mindlessly twirling one between his fingers whenever you guys cuddle. But he isn't gonna do it! Unless you let him, then he loves how the texture feels.

You won't admit it, but sometimes you only let him touch it because of how happy it makes him, and you know he's being as respectful as possible.

He'll always be your #1 hype man too! Loves it when you experiment!!

You've definitely caught him wearing your bonnet multiple times, too.

One time, you decided to tease him by guiding him to help you detangle your hair, and frustration was absolutely worth it.

He got so pouty afterward when he had to give up, but you let him know he did a good job trying.

Ghost

He doesn't mean to be rude but he's definitely like "Can't be that bad."

And then you show him your grocery list.

It is that bad.

He gets frustrated and just buys one of everything, walking out of the store with like a dozen bags. He memorizes the ones you pick so there's that at least.

Don't mind him, he's just a bit blunt because he'll then ask, "Why don't you just cut/gel it?". Just explain it, and he'll respect your choice, though it intimidates him a little.

At one point, you're actually the one that lets him feel your hair, so he knows what it's like. He would never touch it unless invited, he's got too much self-control. People also become too intimidated by him to try to touch your hair too, so that's a plus.

It oddly soothes him, he likes how the texture feels on his fingers and especially when it's softer than usual.

One time, you used your own hand to help guide his through your hair, and oh man, was he flustered. Mans was glitching out for a few seconds.

Roach

He thinks your curls are so cute,

Like he literally can't stop watching you because of how they move when you walk.

On occasions where you let him touch it, you'll find that whenever you both are close to each other and really deep in an activity or conversation, he'll absent-mindedly roll a curl between his fingers.

His hands are good for many things, signing, fighting, and other fun stuff. Styling your hair is included!

One of his favorite things to do is help you find and try new styles with your hair. Roach loves looking up and researching about your hair type and what you can do with it, he finds it all super interesting!

Often buys you clips, beads, or whatever he thinks is pretty so you can try it on!

Loves to kiss your head because of how your hair tickles his face a little. He's been tempted to just bury his face in the back of your neck just to plant a bunch of kisses on more than one occasion.

On days where you put extra care into your curls, he's absolutely showing you off to everyone! He wants others to know how hard you worked to look so damn good!! (Gary says it's a full-time job, really)

König

Expect to find him staring all starstruck a lot.

Like a lot.

When you tell him it's your natural hair, he's surprised, he thought you just did a lot of work to make your curls so coily.

He once asked (very) politely if he could touch your hair, and because he was (extremely) nice about it, you let him.

Only for him to panic when the velcro from his glove got caught and he apologized a dozen times over. Afterwards, he treated you like porcelain, keeping his hands straight at his sides around you and acting like a spooked animal.

It got to a point where you had to confront him and tell him it was an honest mistake, and he didn't have to apologize which made him apologize more.

On the other hand, König enjoys watching you do your hair, just sitting there quietly with the occasional question. Sometimes, he helps comb your hair, but that's the most he'll let himself do since he doesn't want to mess things up.

Really loves how your products smell.

While he thinks you look amazing no matter what, he likes it best when you go natural.

Hound

Knows a lot more than you expected. They aren't well-versed, but they know more than the average person when it comes to the deal with kinky hair.

They'll go out with you on shopping trips and often help you pick out scents, one that you like but one that isn't too sensitive for their nose, it's something you didn't expect them to enjoy so much.

You can trust her to always have stuff on hand for you if you live separately or in different quarters. Oils, creams, custards, moisturizers, a hair pick (all from your fave brands, of course), she's got you.

He surprises you again when you come home one day, way too tired to do your routine, so he offers to do it for you.

If this was a test, they passed!! They even knew how to brush your hair the right way not to damage it and had already refilled some of your stock.

After that, you often find him helping on wash days when you're far too exhausted, as his way of pampering you. His favorite thing is doing your edges.

Her scary dog privileges also help ward off weirdos trying to touch your hair, and much like Soap, she hypes you up regardless if it's a frizzy day or a special occasion.

Expect them to be mildly addicted to the way your hair smells, it's literally one of their comforts because of how much it reminds them of you.

[cyborg-squid]

i am quite excited with all the new Arknights stuff but 1) i finished playing Chapter 13 but still have to go back and read it, so the story portion is a little jammed in me right now, 2) i will have to play and read Zwillingsturm as well, 3) whatever big big stuff went on with the Babel event, and 4) i really am getting tired of Arknights alts. at least the way they've been doing them. so i'm a little Arknights-ed out at the moment.

a new Amiya class is good, an alt for Fang is a-okay, but an alt for W feels really unnecessary. she's already good! she already has a large story presence! the anniversary video literally has her walking alongside Amiya and Ch'en, showing her possession of the Protagonist Nature! she doesn't need an alt to prove that! AND SHE'S ALREADY LIMITED!!! i mean, i guess it's kinda like what Granblue's been doing with new versions of their already SSR units, selling you back characters that you already own.

i'm mostly fine with alts and new versions of low-rarity operators (Lava, Hibiscus, Fang, Kroos, Jessica) or ones for operators that, frankly speaking, weren't the best or even particularly good when they first came out (Texas, Skadi, Swire), but ones of units that are/were good, like Specter, Eyja, Ch'en (debatably)? c'mon man. and actually it further sucks that the Ch'en and Swire ones are seasonal swimsuit ones. like, okay, a seasonal version more powerful than the original one, that's old hat in gacha games and i'm used to it (*cough cough* Yukata Vania *cough cough*) but i don't like, in Arknights, these seasonal versions being where the continuations of Ch'en and Swire's respective stories are being put.

Also i wish that Bloodline of Combat skin for Ch'en Alter was available for original Ch'en, it's quite good. or really just give OG Ch'en a new outfit that does away with the Cop-py-ness, it's been shown multiple times that she has progressed past solely Lungmen and is a Rhodes Island operator, give us an outfit to illustrate that. it really sucked that the paid outfit for season 2 of the anime was even more Cop-py than her base E2 art.

also hey wait a second, with the new outfits, is this Corrupting Heart's 2nd Bloodline of Combat outfit? like, it looks good, she looks good, but c'mon, distribute that to those who haven't gotten any yet.

this turned into mostly me complaining and then talking about Ch'en. i really like her, not in the "bluh bluh muh waifu" sort of way, she's just such an interesting character and gets so many cool moments in the latter half of Reunion Arc (doubledragons), she's more than just the sort of "One Chapter Protag Operators" that we get every now and then (Blaze+Greythroat in chapter 6, Horn+Bagpipe in early Victoria Arc, Stainless in 10 and 11, etc...), she's really really central for a large part of AK's story and has well written relationships with Amiya and Talulah, the 'full' protagonist and antagonists of Arc 1, she is on a similar level as them, so to speak.

[obeymeoasis]

Demon Bros React: MC Is Insecure

Warnings: mentions of insecurity surrounding body image, physical appearance, self-worth.

Lucifer

It was the day after a party Diavolo had thrown at his castle. You had had fun for the most part, dancing with the brothers and eating delicious foods prepared by Barbatos. 

But you also remembered how it had felt to look around the room and realize you were surrounded by gorgeous demons, not a single flaw on anyone’s face. Doubt and insecurity had begun to creep into your mind, and that feeling had carried over into the next day.

You had only talked briefly with Lucifer at the party because he was too busy interacting with Diavolo’s guests. Every time you tried to catch his eye, you noticed how beautiful whoever he was talking to was and found yourself swallowing down your greeting.

Currently Lucifer was at his desk like always, scribbling down notes and shuffling through papers. You brought him afternoon tea and sat reading in one of his armchairs to keep him company.

You had been telling yourself that you were going to ask him the question that was burning in your mind, but an hour had already passed since you first came in. You tried to distract yourself with your book but the words were fuzzy on the page. Finally, you spoke. “Luci?”

He didn’t look up from his desk when he answered, “Yes, love?”

“Do you... do you ever wish I was more beautiful?”

The scratching of his pen stopped immediately and Lucifer lowered the papers he was holding to show his face, a carefully blank expression revealing nothing. “What exactly do you mean by that question?”

“I mean exactly what I asked. Do you ever wish I was more beautiful? More attractive? As the Avatar of Pride have you ever been... embarrassed to be seen with me?”

At this Lucifer’s expression grew cold and furious. “Has someone... made you feel this way? Has someone made you feel as if you are inadequate?” You shook your head sadly and whispered, “No, just my own brain.”

“Ah, I see. Well pet, I don’t ever wish you were more beautiful because you are the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen. So it would be physically impossible for you to be more beautiful than you are now.”

You snorted. “Luci, that was so cheesy. Your brothers would throw up if they heard what you just said.” Lucifer’s lips quirked up in amusement. “Well, I’m glad I was able to make you laugh. And I do mean what I said. I’ve never once felt embarrassed to be with you; you are my pride, the source of my happiness. If anyone were to suggest otherwise, I would gladly kill them.”

“Luci, we’ve been over this. You can’t just kill everyone who is mildly rude to me.”

Lucifer went back to working on his papers but there was a gentle smile on his face. “Darling, you’ll find that I definitely can. I have a permit.”

Mammon

You were regretting tagging along to one of Mammon’s photo shoots. At first, it seemed like a fun idea getting to look at all the clothes, makeup, and jewelry. Plus, you really wanted to see what Mammon was like when he was working professionally. 

It was fun at first, you cooing over how handsome Mammon looked in his outfit and watching him get all flustered and blushy. But then the actual photoshoot started and you watched as Mammon posed with a stunning model.

You tried to not let your insecurities get the best of you. You were here to support Mammon! But as the shoot progressed you couldn’t help but start to compare yourself, keeping track of how they were more beautiful and you more flawed. 

The photographer stopped to take a break and Mammon immediately bounced over to you. “MC, did you see me? How does it feel to watch the Great Mammon in his natural element? I look good, don’t I?”

You caressed Mammon’s cheek and feigned a bright smile. “You were amazing Mammon! You look so handsome. And this is such a cool outfit!” But Mammon was somehow always able to tell when you were faking a good mood and he frowned. “MC, is something wrong? You look sad. Did something happen?”

You opened your mouth, an excuse ready on your lips, but found you couldn’t lie right to Mammon’s face. You gestured toward the model who was talking to their manager in the corner. “Do you ever wish I looked like that?”

Mammon cocked his head, confused. “Do I ever wish you had blue hair? Not particularly? Although now that I think about it, blue hair would look cool on you too.”

You sighed. “No, I mean do you ever wish I looked like a model? Sexier? Or prettier?” Mammon thought for a moment, processing your question, and then frowned. “Oh no no no. Treasure, what’s this all about? What happened?”

“Sorry Mams, I didn’t want to distract you while you’re working. I just got really low and insecure all of a sudden. Started thinking about how you should be with someone really beautiful, you know? And sometimes I feel like that’s not me.”

Clearly upset, Mammon rushed to give you a crushing hug, tucking your head underneath his chin. “MC I- I wish I could beam my thoughts into your head. That way you’d really believe me when I say that you’re so precious to me. Every day I wake up and think about how lucky I am to be with you.”

You chuckled a little. “I do put up a lot with you, don’t I.” Mammon gently smacked you on your back. “Hey! I’ve been good lately! But seriously MC, you are stunning. You are gorgeous. And it’s okay if you don’t believe me right now because- because I’ll tell you as many times as you need me to! I’ll tell you a thousand times a day! A million times!”

You tried to blink away the tears in your eyes and held onto Mammon even tighter. “Thanks Mams, I love you so much.”

“Love you too treasure. Your first man’s gonna take care of you, don’t you worry about a thing.”

Leviathan

Usually you liked watching anime with Levi; it was one of your favorite things to do together. Levi was always more happy and lively when watching with you because he was able to express his opinions freely without judgment. And you thought it was adorable how excited Levi got over his favorite characters and storylines.

Today, you were snuggled together on some cushions re-watching an episode of “The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl”. At first you were enjoying the episode, laughing as Ruri got used to the oddities of the human world. But Levi’s repeated comments about how cute Ruri-chan was, which you usually never minded, started to bother you a bit.

You took a quick glance around the room, noting Levi’s enormous collection of Ruri-chan posters, figurines, and other merch. Levi tapped you on the knee, interrupting your thoughts. “MC, you’re missing the best part! What are you looking at?”

You sighed a little, struggling to act nonchalant. “Sorry Levi, it’s nothing. I’m still watching.” Frowning, Levi paused the episode and turned to look at you. “Hey, what’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you said “Levi, I’m not Ruri-chan.” He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Yes... I know?”

You continued, “I don’t look like Ruri-chan. Does that bother you?”

“Does it bother me... that you don’t look like an anime character?” He repeated the question slowly, as if you had asked him the strangest question in the world.

Frustrated, you blurted out “I don’t look like Ruri-chan! I’m never going to be as cute as her!”

Levi looked completely bewildered, his eyes wide and staring at you in confusion. “B-But you are cute! MC, w-what are you even talking about?” 

Embarrassed at your outburst you looked down at the floor silently. Levi scooted over toward you so that your knees were touching and he waited until you broke the silence. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m good enough. I think maybe you’d like it if I looked cuter or acted cuter, like the characters in anime.”

Levi hesitated for a moment before quickly grabbing onto your hand, blushing furiously as he did so. "MC, I-I already think you're c-cute. Really really cute. So don't say things like that. And also, I like you because you're you! Not because you're like someone else."

"And you make me really happy. I'm just a gross otaku. I never thought I'd be able to... to find someone like you. Someone who accepts me."

He tried to lock eyes with you but blushed even harder and stared at your joined hands. "Plus, I couldn't to-touch an anime character. But I can touch you. I can hold your hand or give you hugs whenever you need it, o-okay?"

You leaned your head onto Levi's shoulder and closed your eyes, letting the peaceful silence wash over you.

Satan

You were accompanying Satan on a trip to one of his favorite stores: an antique shop that sold all manner of rare books and artifacts. The owner, Ms. Sparrow, was a friend of Satan’s and she welcomed the two of you wholeheartedly.

Today, she looked as gorgeous as she always did. Her chic pearl dress and matching silk gloves shone against her dark skin. Not a curl in her hair was out of place and even the click-clack of her heels on the floor seemed melodious somehow.

You left Satan to look at the books and went wandering off into the various aisles of the store, marveling at all the bits and bobs. In one of the over-stuffed corners you happened to find a glittering silver key on a red velvet ribbon. Taking it in your hand, you went back through to show it off to Satan, wanting to ask him what he thought it opened.

But Satan was busy chatting and laughing with Ms. Sparrow. You watched the two of them for a moment and noticed how well they complimented each other. Both had a certain poise, a kind of confidence and certainty in their movements.

On your walk back to the dorms, you were unusually quiet and Satan noticed. “Pet, is something the matter?”

You hesitated, wondering if Satan was going to find your insecurity childish. “Satan, I’m not very....elegant.”

“Yes, I know. You choked on a piece of bread yesterday. The day before that you tripped over absolutely nothing and fell down.” He smiled, expecting for you to get riled up, but it fell when he saw that you looked dejected. “Love, what is the matter? Have I upset you?”

You avoided his gaze. “Sometimes... sometimes I wonder if I bring you down by being with you. I feel like you deserve someone elegant and sophisticated. Someone who matches you. But I’m not. I’m clumsy and messy and not perfect, like Ms. Sparrow.”

Satan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ms. Sparrow? What does she have anything to with this?” He turned you around so that you were facing him. “Pet, please look at me. I love you. And I’m not with you in spite of you being clumsy or messy. I love you because you’re clumsy and messy, because those are parts of you and I love all of you.”

He leaned down to press his forehead against yours. “And why would I need someone perfect? Am I perfect? Yesterday you saw me screaming at my cup because I accidentally spilled some tea and burned my finger.”

You shrugged while giggling, “I thought it was a perfectly reasonable response.” You wrapped your arms around his and buried your face into his shoulder. “Thanks, Satan. You always know how to make me feel better.”

He reached down to give you a gentle kiss. “Anytime, love. I’m always here for you.”

Asmodeus

Asmo has a lot of fans across all his social media accounts. That was made perfectly clear the first time you went on a date with him outside. Sitting in the trendy coffeeshop, several people had come up to ask him for a picture or an autograph. He was never shy about you and always introduced you as his sweetheart, cooing about how beautiful you were. 

Some days it was okay. You loved seeing the bubbly social-butterfly side of Asmo. He was always so sweet to everyone who came up to him and genuinely enjoyed meeting new people. But other days, your insecurity rose up like a huge wave and dampened everything.

This particular day you were shopping with Asmo in a new boutique that had opened up. You were aimlessly flicking through the racks of clothes when you heard a large squealing.

Two demons ran up to Asmo, talking and gesturing excitedly. You could make out that they followed him on Devilgram and were asking if he was willing to take a picture with them. These demons were some of the most attractive beings you had ever seen. Their clothes were incredibly stylish and their hair and makeup were done flawlessly.

Looking around the shop, in all of the full length mirrors you could see the reflection of Asmo and his beautiful fans. And you looked out of place, like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit in at all. 

Tearing up, you grabbed a random pair of jeans off the rack and ran into a changing room. You turned away from the mirror, not wanting to look at yourself, and took deep breaths to try and keep from bursting into sobs. After a few moments Asmo began looking for you, having finished taking pictures. “Sweetheart, are you changing? Let me see what you’re wearing when you’re done!”

At the sound of his voice you burst into tears and your attempts to muffle the noise were futile. Outside the door, Asmo’s voice sounded panicked. “Darling, are you okay? What’s the matter? Please come outside, whatever it is please let me help you!” You hesitated, not wanting to face him, but this made him even more frantic. He started jiggling the doorknob and knocking on the door.

You opened it, afraid that he would accidentally break the doorknob leaving you trapped inside. As soon as he saw you he gathered you in his arms and began making shushing noises while smoothing your hair. “Sweetheart, why are you crying? Please talk to me, please tell me what’s wrong.”

You tried to get the words out in between sobs and hiccups. “A-Asmo, don’t you want someone m-more beautiful? Someone who-who looks g-good with you?” Asmo paused for a moment, processing your words, and then his eyes burned with anger. “Sweetheart, did one of my fans say something mean to you? Did someone make you feel like this?”

You shook your head vigorously. “No, just me.” Asmo breathed a sigh of relief at hearing no one had harrassed you and resumed smoothing your hair. “Oh, darling. You ARE beautiful. You’re stunning, sweetheart. I wish you could see the way I saw you, how adorable and gorgeous you are. And I understand that there are going to be days when you don’t believe me, when you feel like you’re not. But at least don’t go through those days alone, okay?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without tearing up again.

"Now, let's go get some ice cream. We can eat it while taking a bubble bath."

Beelzebub

You weren’t really sure why Beel liked you coming with him to the gym all the time, even if you didn’t exercise. He said your presence was calming and that it made him focus better, which was odd because a lot of the time you just sat on an unoccupied machine and scrolled through your D.D.D.

Today was much the same, with Beel running on the treadmill and you watching some videos. The gym was pretty empty, just a few students exercising here and there.

Your eyes drifted to Beel who was running without even breaking a sweat. His body was all solid muscle: his arms, legs, and abs looked perfectly chiseled and toned. Last week you accidentally ran into Beel in the hallway and it felt like you had smashed into a brick wall. Beel, on the other hand, was completely fine.

You began to wonder what Beel thought about your body. He could be pretty handsy at times and he wasn’t shy in his affections. But what if there was something he didn’t like? Something that he thought needed changing?

He’s never mentioned anything about exercising to you before. But you thought back to the students you had seen in this gym: all of them were extremely fit with incredible bodies. You couldn’t help but start to compare yourself to them and think that maybe you were lacking.

Just then, Beel finished his run and walked over to you. You weren’t sure what kind of facial expression you were making but it seemed enough to concern him because he asked, “MC, is everything okay?”

“Hey Beel... do you ever wish I had a nicer body?”

He squinted in confusion. “What do you mean by ‘a nicer body’?”

“I don’t know... just better. Whatever nicer looks like for you.”

Beel was quiet for a moment, thinking. “No, I've never wished for that before. I still don't know what you mean by 'nicer'. I love you. And I love your body because its yours. The only thing that matters to me is whether you’re happy. And as long as I'm still allowed to touch you, then I'm happy.”

He looked at you nervously then, biting his lip. "Am I... still allowed to touch you?"

You laughed and reached to give him a hug, loving how safe it felt in his arms. "Of course, big guy. Thanks for making me feel better. You always know what to say."

Beel flushed with pride and closed his eyes in happiness, leaning into your hand as you patted him on the head.

Belphegor

You knew you were dreaming because you were sitting in a R.A.D classroom surrounded by fellow students, but you couldn’t focus on any of their faces. They were blurry, as if someone had smudged them like an artist had smudged some charcoal.

You were at your desk, looking around the classroom, when as if on cue all of the students began to slowly gather around you. They stood there silently for a moment, unmoving, and you felt a shiver go up your spine. 

And then one by one the students began to hurl insults at you.

“You’re not good enough. Not good enough for Belphegor.” “You’re ugly, you’re hideous. “You’re unwanted, go back to where you came from.” “You don’t deserve what you have, don’t deserve good.” “You’re weak.” “You ruin others, you ruin everything.”

As they insulted you the students began to draw themselves closer, pushing and shoving to reach you. They almost made a cover over your desk as if to block out all the light. You hunched over your desk, shaking and panicking, trying to curl up to protect yourself.

One of the demons began shaking your shoulder roughly, you yelping in pain. He began yelling in your ear, “Wake up! Wake up!”

“MC! Wake up!”

You startled awake and looked around the room in fear. You were in Belphie’s bed, your pajamas sticking to you with sweat. Belphie was looking at you with concern, one hand still on your shoulder.

“MC, you’re okay. It’s just me. It was just a nightmare.” You let out a sob and buried yourself in his arms while he patted you on the back until your breaths evened out.

“D-Did you see my dream?” you asked. You were nervous about showing Belphie that weak side of you, the insecurities that had been brewing since the two of you had begun a relationship. He looked apologetic. “I did. You were whimpering and shaking in your sleep. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He reached over, one hand smoothing your hair, the fingers of his other hand interlaced with yours. “None of what they said was true, you know.” You looked down, embarrassed. “I mean it, MC. You are good enough. You’re beautiful, you’re wanted, you deserve all the nice and beautiful things in the world, you’re strong. And most importantly, you lift others up. You lift me up everyday.”

He lifted up your hand and pressed a kiss against it. “You lifted me out of darkness. I love you so much. And I’ll gladly stay by your side, for as long as you’ll have me.”

You grabbed the front of his sweater to draw him into a rough kiss, lips bruising. “Forever, Belphie. Forever.” 

[copperpieceharlot]

Bud I’m sorry to swing into your inbox uninvited like this but my soul is having an OOTS renaissance thanks to your content in the tag and did you say Leverage AU

haha holy SHIT this got Long. but yes. i’ve been. Thinking. (also literally Never feel like you have to apologize for sending me messages. i was Hoping someone would ask me about this. now i have an Excuse to share EVERYTHING ive written abt it :3)

Obviously, Roy is the leader/brains of the outfit. He grew up having some Strong Opinions abt what’s Legal versus what’s Right due to tragic backstory involving the death of his little brother which was definitely SOMEONE’S fault for negligence but since there technically wasn’t any illegal behavior, there were no consequences for it. Also he’s still angry at his dad bc he thinks his dad is also partly culpable (and also also just a dick). He’s the Moral Backbone of the team (alongside Durkon, more on that later) in basically the same way Nate was in og Leverage. He’s actually not the best at figuring out what people want (that’s Haley and, shockingly, occasionally Elan), but once he has that info, he is the absolute best at figuring out the ideal plan of attack to use in any given case.

Haley is still a thief. I mean she maps to Parker almost PERFECTLY. Her dad was a thief & a conman, her mom wasn’t but knew about it and mostly accepted it, but she died tragically in a mugging gone wrong or smth, which made Ian crank the paranoia WAY up and taught Haley to do the same in the name of “safety”. Let’s keep the “Ian is in Trouble and Haley needs money, Fast” which is why she signs on to the first job in the first place. She’s less acrobatic than Parker, tending towards finding (or making) weak spots in security, but she can still make a tumble check when she needs to.

Elan is the grifter who is somehow an Idiot but also not???? It baffles everyone. When he’s playing a part for a con, he’s FLAWLESS, but then the rest of the time he’s just. No Thoughts Head Empty. He probably gets lured in initially because he’s decided to try his hand at being part of a full team, rather than the two-man cons he’s been running that invariably end w his partner conning him as well and stealing half of his take. Also he likes the idea of being Crime Friends. He’s that tweet where it’s like, Roy: “after the heist is over, we split up and never communicate again” / Elan: [about to unveil his Crime Buddies Forever Friendship Quilt Puppets]: “never?”

Vaarsuvius is the hacker/gadget person. They have a Vaguely Snobby Yet Unidentifiable accent, dyed(?) purple hair (nobody has ever seen their roots) and nobody knows who they “really” are or where they came from, but they’re good at what they do so everyone just accepts the mystery. They probably got suckered into the team by their initial employer (who I’ll get to Eventually, lol) framing it as a challenge to their intellect, like, “oh, I see, you’re not smart enough to make this team work for you...” to which they were like Fucking Watch Me and also melted his computer. Anyways. They are joined (digitally) by their Intrepid Friend And Co-Conspirator (his words, not theirs), a fellow hacker known only as Blackwing, or, on certain forums, Blackwing_Bird. (In the first season, V only occasionally references him when saying they’re “calling in extra help” or smth for a particularly complex hack job. He starts showing up a little more in s2 and eventually by the start of s4 is a regular & established presence, but only appears as actions in a computer interface or output.) Elan is convinced he’s an AI, Belkar doesn’t think he actually exists, Haley pretends she doesn’t think he exists, and Durkon and Roy try not to think about it too hard, as long as B and V still get the job done.

Belkar is the hitter. He is on the team bc their initial employer got him out of jail for it. He doesn’t have a tragic backstory, he just likes doing violent crimes. As the series progresses, he grows some empathy & stuff, but really only for people who actually deserve it. Assholes still get decked. It’s all very touching. (Also he has dwarfism caused by achondroplasia. It doesn’t actually bother him and is useful in fights bc his opponents frequently have no fucking clue how to approach him, but he likes Pretending to take offense at stupid things just to see how far he can go with it.)

Aaaand last but not least, Durkon is the least involved member of the team. He’s actually a career criminal and Roy’s mentor, and wasn’t a member of the initial team that [redacted, I’ll tell you later, PROMISE] put together for a couple of reasons, the main one being that he’s Officially retired in order to spend more time with his family, which consists of his mom, his friend (not girlfriend) Hilgya, baby Kudzu, and a truly stunning number of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Roy frequently calls or visits him for advice and he Occasionally shows up to help out on local jobs, but generally he avoids doing crime if he can (as part of a deal with Hilgya, who is also a career criminal; basically, they’ve both cut back on the crime in order to provide a more stable home environment for Kudzu. But sometimes, you gotta do a little crime, and in those cases, Sigdi enjoys spending time w her grandson.)

NOW. THE BIG REVEAL YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR. Who got the team together in the first place?!

The answer: Lord Shojo (or whatever Normal Person Name you want to assign him). Now this is where it gets tricky: he had them do a thing that they thought was good, THEN they thought it was BAD, but then when they confronted him he revealed that it Appearing to be bad was actually a test of character and would they consider working as basically internal investigators for him? But then he had a heart attack, so, rip. But THEN it turned out that he’d left them a bunch of money anyway and they were all feeling kind of Inspired so they formed the Order of the Stick, LLC (which, no, i am not coming up with a new name, actually, because I just don’t care. someone else can come up w a justification for that name, tho, i’m sure it’s possible). Also Miko was there and was unhappy abt their actions, and also their general existence.

Moving on. Villains!

Redcloak is the Sterling replacement, because that DEEPLY amuses me.

Xykon is a season-long main villain, probably one that Redcloak finds himself working for but then “teams up with” (read: blackmails) the Order to bring him down bc even Redcloak finds Xykon distasteful. That’s season 3, let’s say.

Tarquin is another season villain, say season 2. Nale probably shows up pretty early in s1, actually, as another recurring antagonist like Sterling but uh. Less good at it. Anyways the s2 final 3 eps deal with them (accidentally) discovering that Tarquin runs some Evil Empire Company, then trying to outplay him and take him down. Idk if Nale still dies in this version tbh.

Tsukiko is a one-off s1 villain who returns briefly in s4 alongside Miko, who has gone well and truly off the rails.

Season 1 finale has to do w Roy finally getting Vengeance for his little brother.

The vampire squad is the s4 finale villain who do smth terrible to Durkon and then get the Mother Of All Revenge served up to them by the Order.

I envision the show as being 5 seasons (like og Leverage) but I’m not going to sketch out s5 because I think it should be based off whatever happens in the current story arc, possibly involving some legacy of the OotSquiggle.

Other stuff!

The Order of the Squiggle is a legendary criminal team from the 60s who stole a BUNCH of famous shit & then proceeded to legendarily implode. This has no bearing on the plot I’ve sketched out, I just think it’s fun.

The Sapphire Guard members should probably be reworked as FBI. I don’t care about most of them but I do think that Lien and O-Chul could be like, FBI agents who Choose to look the other way while the Order does their very-much-not-legal-but-still-fair Justice Crime, and maybe even help them out on occasion.

So, the Final season-by-season outline, based on everything I’ve written so far:

s1 e1: getting the team together, doing a con for Shojo, then at the end he dies and the gang is like “dang what now?" and intend to split up except then they Don’t.

mid-s1: Nale shows up and tries to trick the Order, but then gets beat like a drum.

late s1: Tsukiko is an underling of the Villain Of The Week, winds up in police custody. But She’ll Be Back.

s1 finale: Roy’s Vengeance: The Vengeaning. also we meet Redcloak as an antagonist.

s2 e1: the truth abt Haley’s father comes out

early s2: The Two Live Crews Job but it’s the Order vs the Linear Guild and the Linear Guild ARE all bad guys.

mid-s2: Redcloak returns. ugh.

late s2: the sapphire guard FBI makes its first appearance, hello O-Chul and Lien.

s2 pre-finale: once again they’re in conflict w Nale over smth, he spends the whole episodes making Cryptic Remarks, they basically beat him (like a drum!) but then the stinger at the end is that Tarquin reveals himself and Elan is like “Dad?!”, roll credits.

s2 finale, part 1: Elan is hanging out w Tarquin bc he’s DEEP in Denial, the Rest of the team tries to take Tarquin down, but it doesn’t work.

s2 finale, part 2: Elan finally gets a clue and they manage to beat Tarquin. still haven’t decided if Nale dies or not, but I’m leaning towards yes. also they rescue Haley’s dad.

s3 e1: fuck dude idk.

early s3: Redcloak shows up, AGAIN, everyone groans. he has blackmail on them, he wants them to take Xykon down.

mid s3: The Rashomon Job but it’s about stealing the Talisman of Dorukan and it turns out that Nale was there too (“oh!” Elan says. “I was wondering why I looked so weird in all those mirrors! But it wasn’t my reflection, it was Nale’s!” “Sweetie, that wasn’t Nale’s reflection,” says Haley. “Huh,” says Elan, “so the mirrors were broken?”, cue eye rolling from everyone else.), and the Successful thief was Hilgya, who’d nabbed it from the owner before it even went on display.

s3 finale: they beat Xykon, actually factually, because he deserves to get his ass Thoroughly kicked, even if only in AU form. Lien and O-Chul are there, so are some other less helpful FBI people. There’s a bit where O-Chul Exact Wordses his way out of telling his superiors about the Order’s less legal activities without technically lying. King shit.

s4 e1: doesn’t really matter. maybe smth to do w some legacy of Tarquin’s company to set up the drama w Malack & Durkon later.

early s4: Durkon gets SENT TO PRISON. Malack approaches the Order abt this because sure they have Different Ethics but they’re still Friends. (Roy is surprised and a little hurt that he’s never heard of Malack, but he ignores that in favor of Let’s Get Whatever Fuckers Did This To Our Friend.)

immediately after that: Miko and Tsukiko return as a Team, preventing the Order from working on the Durkon situation

mid s4: Redcloak makes another unexpected & unwelcome appearance but he’s maybe a little less of a dick? the Order collaborates with Malack & his Crime Buddies (hello, Vector Legion) to pull one over on him tho, because “less of a dick” does not mean “a pleasant or decent person”, and also he was mean abt Durkon being in jail, so he totally deserved it. he still gets whatever he wanted tho, just takes a blow to his pride. also prevents the Order from helping Durkon. they’re having a LOT of setbacks wonder why that could be, not to make sure the season fills its whole length or anything, no sirree

s4 finale: something something taking down the organization, headed by Hel (yes that’s her real name), which framed Durkon for their Big Crime. Durkon goes free and Extra Firmly retires, For Good, He Swears, but says he “met someone new” who might be an asset.

s5 e1: minrah joins the team! and the episode is set in like, somewhere really snowy. that’s all i got.

the rest of s5: don’t know, don’t care, it’s open-ended until the comic finishes up.

[melisa-may-taylor72]

Accolades such as “greatest single long-playing achieve­ment since Sgt. Pepper” and “the most important record album ever made” fall over Queen’s latest album as easily as butter melt­ing on a hot potato—but few realize what a hot potato the album actually was in its pre-release days. It took a bevy of high-powered attorneys, some low-life finagling, and more than the usual amount of wheeler­dealing just to get the album out without its being hacked to death by defamation-of-character suits.

Guitarist Brian May explains: “I’m in real difficulty here because I’ve been threatened with libel because our old management had a good go at stop­ping the album coming out. They thought “Death on Two Legs’’ was about them. They wanted us to take the track off and we nearly had to, and in fact they got a load of money out of our publishing company be­cause it supposedly was libelous, but it’s never been proven. It’s all very stupid—they wanted to sue Freddie, the band, the publishing company, and the record company.”

All very dramatic stuff, but a band like Queen survives not on operatic finesse alone, but on gut-level melo- dramatics in the business department as well. When you produce your rec­ords, write the songs, play all the in­struments, and do everything your­self, chances are you’re going to have to pay some legal dues, too. But ah! the rewards—such as the single, “Bo­hemian Rhapsody,” hanging into the #1 spot in the British charts for seven weeks in a row!

“We’re a bit more in the public eye now, we’re starting to get recognized a lot more,” says Brian May. “We’re carrying on working just as we did before, but obviously we’re very pleas­ed with how the record’s doing. It’s sold more than a million copies in England— can’t believe it.” But it’s true: Queen’s stature in England has risen from that of The #1 teenage hard rock band to that of the-group- that-made-the-single-that-every-house- wife-knows-by-heart”.

What propelled Queen in that di­rection is their Night at the Opera album, a slight departure from what Queen fans know to be the Queen sound. The hard rock screams have temporarily subsided, replaced by ex­perimentation with different voicings of instruments and production tricks. Those who found Queen’s approach overdecibelled can relax to the quiet “ ‘39” or “Good Company” and tap their feet to “Lazing on a Sunday Af­ternoon” without fear of being gui- tarred to death. “It’s just what came out,” says Brian. “They’re offshoots of our main direction. There’s plenty of time for the rock.”

“The album wasn’t really supposed to go in the direction that it did, it was just the songs we had. While we were making it we were thinking, ‘Yeah, it is getting a bit light,’ but rather than fight against it we de­cided to do it properly and then think again afterwards. So instead of try­ing to heavy up the lighter things, we pressed on. We had a few things we didn’t use, but we’re getting more demanding of ourselves. There are a few heavy things kicking around, but we may use them on the next record.”

The two strongest forces in Queen have always been Brian and Freddie. With A Night at the Opera, where experimentation and branching out in new directions are the most obvious characteristics, the personalities of the band are often obscured by the newly emerging elements. “Some­times I feel that Freddie and I are going in different directions, but then he’ll come up with something and I’ll think, ‘My God—we do think alike.’ When I’m working on one of his things I can tune in very easily to what guitar part he wants, and vice-versa. In terms of what we’re trying to do in songs, we are moving in different directions, but I think that could be a good thing.”

QUEEN II: Critical response to the band is now almost unanimous­ly favorable in both Great Britain and the United States, which is quite phe­nomenal when you stop and think of how anxious many critics were to pan them two years ago.“I’m not going to take it too seriously,” Brian says, “because I remember what the critics said about Queen II. It would seem that everybody is beginning to like us. … very much. I can take it at that level, but there’s no doubt in my mind that sometime in the future there’ll come a time when we get slagged for everything. Queen II is still my favorite of the Queen albums, certainly the most daring. Especially for the time. I think we’re still finding our feet now, and the way I feel about the new album is that we’re searching for new directions and most of them are sort of half-formed. We’ve got the Queen II feel in some places, and in others we’ve got the Sheer Heart Attack polish. I don’t think we’re quite sure where we’re going”.

“This album, at the very least, ne­gates all the comparisons to Led Zep­pelin that we’ve been living with for the past three years. I think Physical Graffiti is amazing, by the way. I saw Zeppelin at Earls Court, and I met Pagey afterward, for the first time. It was great, he was very nice and gentle. I respect him a tremendous amount for “Kashmir” and “The Light,” for being able to put his brain on record—- it wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t play a note.”

Economic criticism has been less favorable, however. A Night at the Opera was wide­ly rumored to be “the most expensive album ever made” when it was released, a point which Queen’s management denies. Nevertheless, Queen has been taken to task by quite a few English journalists for spending so much money estimated at £30-40,000—making one record. Brian has a retort: “We wouldn’t have spent so much money if the studios weren’t so bloody expensive!

The album was recorded in seven of them, sometimes three at once.” We weren’t mucking about for any of it, it was four months of solid work. It came down to having the equipment available for four months, and we didn’t begrudge the amount of time spent in the studios, but it comes to a fair amount of money. There’s a lot of things that seem light, like “Good Company,” which actually took a great deal of time and care. All those trumpets and clarinets being fashioned from guitar sounds—I took it quite seriously because I wanted to do it right, even though it was a light­hearted thing. We worked too hard for our own health, we got a bit down and depressed.”

While Queen was laying about England between record and tour, a few of them got going on some independent projects. Brian and Roger produced an R&B group’s single, but there were some record company hassles and it may be some time before the record gets released. And on the eve of the Amer­ican tour, Freddie Mercury went into the studios with a singer/songwriter managed by the Rocket Organization (which manages Queen as well) to try his hand at production. “Eddie How­ells is the guy’s name, and he’s man­aged by David Mead, and they’re do­ing a single for Warners. I’m play­ing some guitar on it.” Brian re­strained himself from going out on any limbs before the American tour in order to get himself physically fit. His health had been a crucial prob­lem on an earlier American tour, and he’s not particularly anxious to spend time in hospitals when he could be on­stage instead. “I actually get more tired offtour than ontour,”he admits. But I am in good health.”

HAIRY LEGS: Once the English leg of the tour did get started, word started to flow very quickly back to the States about Queen’s dramatic stage show—a stage show to end all stage shows, with Mercury donning short-shorts to add a bit of the hairy leg to Queen’s otherwise pristeen pre­sentation. “The show is the same, but different,” Brian says confusedly. “We’ve merely developed what we did before with some new material from the new album. It’s a bit of re­shuffling. Plus we do “Doing All- right” from the first album, which we’ve never done onstage before. And “Seven Seas of Rhye,” which we’d do in England but never in America be­fore. It’s quite a lot different, ac­tually.”

American audiences got their first chance to sample the new presenta­tion on January 27 in Waterbury, Conn., when the first concert of Queen’s scheduled 32-date, 21-city American tour got underway in the Palace Theatre. After arriving in the States at Kennedy International on January 20 and spending a couple of days in New York for interviews, Queen began five days of rehearsals at the Palace to ready their show for American fans across the country.

After Waterbury they dove headfirst into the intensive six-week tour, which featured extended runs in New York, Philadelphia, and Los Angeles before its scheduled end March 12 at the San Diego Sports Arena.

Despite the novel direction of the new album, onstage Queen proved to be the same rocking outfit they’ve always been, letting loose with the same kind of guitar-bass-drums-piano barrage they’ve delivered in the past. “We don’t do “39” or “Lazing on aSunday Afternoon” in our show,“ Brian explains. He seems a bit defensive of Queen’s rock spirit, which is kept intact in the live set by “BohemianRhapsody,” “Sweet Lady,” “Prophet Song” and the deletion of the “experimental tunes” from A Night At the Opera.

By the by, those who missed Queenon earlier tours but want to see how they’ve changed now have the means. Queen bave joined the prestigious ranks of the Zeppelins, the Beatles, and the Rolling Stones whereby sorne illegal entrepreneur has issued a boot­ leg album of one of their American concerts. “I hate those things-they rarely give an accurate picture of the group,” Brian states unequivocally, and in this case he’s right. The Queen bootleg has transistor radio fidelity, and the only truly audible members of the band are Brian and Freddie. Yet the fact that a bootleg exists confirms the fact that Queen is now well on their way to the top.

CIRCUS MAGAZINE, APRIL 1975

@natromanxoff, @mephisto92, @moviestorian, @x5vale, @39-brian, @onegoldenglance, @crosmopolitan, @an-abyss-called-life, @his-majesty-king-mercury, @i-live-for-queen, @brian-39-may, @toomuchlove-willkillyou, @brimaymay, @sail-away-sweet-sister, @drummerqueenrmt, @old-fashioned-roger-boy-deactiv, @briianmaay, @l-over-bo-y, @inui-mycroft, @deacytits, @iminlovewithrogscar, @drowseoftaylor, @brianmayislongaway, @balticlover, @astrophysicist-guitar-god​, @miez-lakatz, @brianmayoucease, @jesus-in-a-life-boat, @roger-taylors-car, @silapril, @sherrifanciesfriskyfreddie, @tenderbri, @brianmydear, @thosequeenboys, @millionairewaltz-carpediem, @painandpleasure86, @bribrifrenchfry, @xlucylennonx, @a-night-at-the-abbey-road, @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, @madformeddowstaylor, @queenrogertaylorfan, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @queen-for-life, @rethought, @darlinginnuendo, @mymakeupmaybeflaking, @old-but-still-a-child, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @warriorteam1924, @funnydressesweirdhairanddance, @painkiller80, @thefanhuman13, @yourtieddownmother, @hgmercury39, @brimi-stardust, @thefairyfellermercury, @retroromantics, @foxmonkey, @sophiaintheskywithdiamonds, @holybrianmaywritingbear, @lydiannode, @39-yellow-daffodils , @ure-gonna-loveme-when-u-seeme, @kaykaybeachgirl, @rhysjoejoshtomfarisblog @redspecialandclogsandcurls, @briansrainbowsocks, @delilahmay39, @ohmybribri, @bless-the-queen, @infunitehearbeat, @sketchiesscketches, @everythingaboutfreddie, @doitforthevine67, @recordsoftheseventies, @tenementfunsterwithpurpleshoes, @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band, @beatlegirl1968, @maylorsqueen, @shearrehartatacc, @gralto, @alittlepeoplemagic, @rainbowsockbrian, @sailawaysweetbrimi

[robbyrobinson]

OWL HOUSE X CTHULHU MYTHOS: GODS AWAKEN (XIX)

Odalia walked into Emperor Belos’ throne room and prostrated herself before him and Nyarlathotep. “Lord Nyarlathotep, I have retrieved the book.”  

Luz and Amity awoke in the original bodies and sprung back to life. “Uh? What happened?”  

Amity groaned and fell backward her head throbbing with pain. “Why is my head spinning?” Her cheeks grew green and bloated out of the instinctive urge of retching whatever sour contents were churning in her stomach.  

“So that is apple blood,” Luz spoke to herself, “after this, I’m never going to try that stuff again.”  

Amity and Luz stared at each other surprised to find that they were back in their own bodies. They waved their hands in front of their faces and squeezed their arms until they took on a bluish hue. Their probing would only strengthen the notion that they were truly back in their bodies. But one thought came to their minds: if they were borrowing the bodies at the time, then what happened to the original host’s souls?  

“Welcome back to the Isles, human.”  

Belos had gotten off his throne and his large frame towered over the two. Unlike Odalia’s height at around 6 feet, Belos stood at a startling 8 feet. He eclipsed obviously Kikimora, his most trusted servant and right hand, but he was also an imposing figure when it came to the members of his imperial guards. This only accentuated the perceived majesty and authority he encouraged from his worshippers.  

Luz stared at the Emperor with contempt manifesting on her face. “Belos.”  

“I see that you are still bitter over our last encounter?” Emperor Belos asked. It was more a rhetorical question, really, but one he made out of amusement.  

“Where’s Eda?” Luz asked.

Emperor Belos raised his hand. “Unharmed, I assure you, but we must keep her from interfering with our plans.”  

He looked at the murals depicting the wild witches. “As you may have guessed I had...taken care of the wild magic practitioners...one by one.”  

Luz internally shivered at the implications of what he was entailing. He raised his staff and carefully traced an invisible line through the savage witches on the murals. “The Day of Unity is now upon us.”  

“How dare you send your hideous monsters to attack my home?” Luz demanded. Her fists shook and turned red to match the increasing anger in her face.  

Belos chuckled. “It was more of a method of ringing you out; I knew that because of your compassionate heart that you would rather give yourself up than allow more of those rats to die in your stead.”  

“Well, you got me now,” Luz stated never taking her eyes off Belos’, “so leave the Earth alone.”  

Belos tilted his head. “The Titan proclaims that the Earth must be laid to waste before it returns to its full powers. There is no stopping the inevitable. The Earth will bleed a deep, gushing red, before it crumbles away to its slow, miserable, pitiable demise.”  

Luz fought the urge of drawing a glyph to cave Belos’ head in. “Mami..”  

Belos’ eyes flickered and glowed. “Oh, your mother? She is here.”  

Luz’s eyes shot up. “She is.”  

The metallic fingers of his gloves came together to create an echoing snap. Warden Wrath walked into the throne room alongside the Owl Spy. Luz’s eyes widened, her mouth hanging agape. A middle-aged woman with dark brown hair and tan skin was brought in with chains. A metal ring was fixed around her waist, and the heavy metal shackles around her ankles echoed on the floor in miserable tune.  

She wore glasses topped with a red frame. From what Luz could see, she was a continually tired woman with heavy bags behind her glasses. Her hair was in a disarray as well as her uniform, one of those outfits you would see in hospital settings. Tears were crudely decorated on the woman’s uniform, particularly towards the bottom where the hem of her shirt was.  

“Mom?”  

The woman looked up to see Luz running towards her. “Luz!?”  

Luz jumped and practically tackled her mother. “Is it really you?”  

“It is me,” she stated. She tried to hug her daughter back with her limited capabilities. “I have been so worried about you.”  

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Luz said, looking down. “I didn’t actually go to that summer camp that you wanted me to.”  

“I am just delighted to see that you’re okay,” she replied, “when those letters stopped coming in, I almost had a mental breakdown.”  

Luz felt moisture building in her eyes. She hated that she had to put her mother through that, but she had no other option in order to keep Belos from getting to Earth. She knew that at some point, the letters that she would send her Mom would soon drain up, but she was the optimist believing that she could find a way back home before her mother had the chance to worry.  

Amity scanned the woman Luz was hugging. “Who is that, Luz?”  

Luz looked back at the young witch her smile shining brighter than before. “This is my Mom, Amity.”  

Her mother gave a smile, but it was more forced given the circumstances. Amity’s thoughts spiraled out of control. “My future mother-in-law?” she asked.

“What was that?”  

Amity quickly caught herself. “Um, your mother and my mother in the same room.”  

Luz’s eyebrow peaked. “Why are you here, Mom?”  

Emperor Belos interrupted the reunion disgracefully. “Yes, why don’t you tell my grandchild why you are here, Camila?”  

The room grew quiet with not even the sound of a pin dropping on the floor could spur any response. Luz eyed Belos sternly. “Grandchild? What are you getting at?”  

“My, Camila, you kept this secret about yourself successfully hidden for years?” Belos asked again.  

“Mom, please, tell me what is going on.”  

Camila sighed. She exhaled sharply now looking at her feet in deep shame. “Luz, you love the Good Witch Azura books, don’t you?”  

Luz nodded. “Me and Amity both; we bonded over them.”  

“What if I were to tell you that there is some truth to those books?”  

Luz couldn’t understand what her mother was saying at first, but it did slowly start to dawn on her. “Are you saying that you’re Azura?”  

Camila snickered a bit and shook her head. “No, no; Azura is a fictional character...but I did use creative liberties when it came with writing the books.”  

The thought that the events of the books, regardless of whether they came about as fictious stretches of the actual events, crossed Luz’s mind. “Why did Belos call me his grandchild?”  

Camila sighed. “When I was around your age, I found myself in the demon realm much like you – I can’t for the life of me remember how if it was through some door or other means – but I was a foreigner in a world that discriminated against humans.”  

Luz listened carefully not noticing that Odalia was singling for her daughter to be taken away.  

“One day, Emperor Belos discovered me with some old scraps of metal and trash and decided to adopt me for reasons I did not understand at the time. He told me that humans were unable to practice magic on the Boiling Isles because of them lacking the bile sac necessary for it, so he placed a bit of his evil, dark magic into my body and took me as a protégé.”  

“So that was why I was able to see those glyphs?” Luz asked.  

“After being trained under him for some time, he told me of the Day of Unity. It was some weird, cultish holiday I had initially taken it. But I soon found out what intentions he had for the Earth, and I fought against him. With his own magic surging through my veins, I easily overpowered the Emperor and...I might have caused him to be in his current unhealthy state of being because I can sense now that Belos is slowly dying.”  

Luz saw discarded palisman carcasses around Belos’ throne. “Was that why you wanted me to stop being obsessed with fantasy books and magic?”  

Camila nodded her head. “It was a selfish thing for me to do, but I wanted to protect you from the knowledge that such a world existed.” She looked at her feet again likely fearful of meeting her daughter’s eyes. “That was why I was hopeful that the trip would remove that desire so you would never come to this world.”  

Luz didn’t know what to say after being given such a bombshell. Her mom knew about the Boiling Isles because she had been there at some point only to somehow escape once things got sour. Now she learned that Belos took her mother in and how she was now his granddaughter. She had his malevolent magic flowing through her body. Her heart was pumping his unholy blood into her veins and through her bloodstream. It made considerable sense because, as was explained to her by Eda years ago, humans could not practice magic.  

“Luz?” Camila asked.  

Luz was still speechless and incapable of reaction. Belos laughed again and tapped Camila’s forehead with the staff. “I was hoping that I could take your daughter in and have her as a protégé to turn her against you, but that plan went awry.”  

He glared at Warden Wrath. “Take her to the execution site.”  

Warden Wrath shook his head and grabbed a hold of Camila. Camila’s legs shook but were heavily weighed down by the shackles. “Luz!”  

Luz tried to run after Warden Wrath, but Odalia shot a blue stream at Luz; it ripped into the floor dividing it in half. “No wrong step, or I will slice you in two as well.”  

“Mom!” Luz shouted. She shot daggers from her eyes at Belos. “Unhand her at once!”  

Belos shook his head. “The sins of the past must be made to pay for.” He exited the throne room before turning around once he reached the exit behind the beating heart of the Titan. “I’ll have my master take it from here.”  

Nyarlathotep, once more in his Black Pharaoh guise, approached the girl. “Hello once again, Luz.”  

“It’s you!” Luz shouted and pointing her finger at accusingly. “Was this all your idea!?”  

“I’m not a man who has pre-made plans just hanging there collecting dust,” Nyarlathotep said with a half-serious tone. “Odalia, give her the Necronomicon.”  

Odalia’s eyes shot up. “Lord Nyarlathotep, why would-”  

“That is an order,” Nyarlathotep replied. His voice went down a couple octaves.  

Shaking, Odalia handed the Necronomicon to the human girl and made her leave. Luz had a weird feeling about this. “What game is this?”  

“When you are literally older than time itself, it’s always best to play a game to take a load off your mind,”  Nyarlathotep answered.  

Nyarlathotep snapped his fingers. Above him was a column wherein a trap door opened. From there, she could see a large, glass cage descending. She squinted her eyes to make out the figures. Eda, King, and Lilith were inside. At the side of the cage was Hypnos, once more in his youthful appearance, flowers and all. He held the piece of horn in his hand.  

“Eda!” Luz proclaimed.  

Eda looked up happy to hear her apprentice’s voice. “Kid, you made it!”  

King and Lilith also turned their glances to Luz. King jumped up and down much like how a dog does whenever they are happy to see their owner come back. Lilith smiled as well, but it was a small one. Luz slammed against the cage’s walls. “Youch!” Luz rubbed her injured nose with her hands. “You guys are alive?”  

“Nyarlathotep took us as prisoners and had us as bargaining chips for you,” Lilith explained.  

“Well, don’t worry, I’ll have you out lickety split!”  

“Wait, Luz!” Eda screamed.

Luz smashed her fist on the glass only for it to bounce back. Thinking, Luz looked into the bag to find something she could use to break the cage. She scribbled glyphs on paper and activated them, but it only made the magical glass stronger. Luz turned to her bag again this time drawing out the jar containing the shoggoth. She tossed it at the cage, but, like with the other objects she tried to use, it rebounded and skyrocketed off the glass. It shot across the room and exited out the door when Kikimora opened it.  

“Luz, you can’t break the glass; we all tried to break it ourselves, but there’s no use,” Eda said at last.  

“There has to be something..” Luz lamented.

“Aye, there is a way, my dear,” Nyarlathotep answered.  

“Why should I trust you?” Luz asked in a matter-of-fact way.  

“The glass can either be broken two ways; either I can use my powers to free the three captives, or an Elder God can destroy it.”  

“Well, I want you to free them!” Luz declared.  

Nyarlathotep held his finger up. “Quid pro quo, my dear, quid pro quo.”  

“Squid pro what?” Luz reiterated.  

“I will free them and you will all go on to live happy lives if you gave me the book.”  

Luz held the demonic book between her arms. “But I can’t just give the book over to someone like you.”  

“Why not?”  

“Because you’re evil; I know somehow you were responsible for the attack on the Earth; a lot of people could die if I gave you this book.”  

“Are a million lives more important to you than the lives of your mentor; her sister; and your pet?”  

“I am not a pet!” King remarked.  

Nyarlathotep ignored the demon and kept speaking. “It would be an unfortunate occasion if they were ripped away from you.”  

“Nyarlathotep, before you do your business with the three captives, do allow me the opportunity to give this demon his horn back.”  

Nyarlathotep looked at the Elder God with suspicion, but flicked his hand. “At least he should be presentable before dying I presume.”  

Nyarlathotep snapped his fingers allowing a small hole to form in the wall. Hypnos slipped the horn into the hole and it resealed after he removed his hand. Eda eyed the horn piece with curiosity. “It looks like it’s the size of your horn, King.”  

She dropped the horn in King’s lap and he sniffed it. “Feels like it; smells like it to...how did I lose it again?”  

He shrugged and dropped it over the crack of his horn. Before he could say anything further, the missing horn piece slipped in like a jigsaw puzzle. A green light glowed around the horn acting as an adhesive glue. In a flash, everything became crystal clear to King as his memories came blasting in at full force. An overtaking sensation. It all came flashing at once: the woman. The large, bat-like monstrosity with the one, three-lobed, bulging eye. The screams. And the smoky vapor – now he could perceive that it materialized together to form the appearance of a man. A tall man wearing a dark cloak. One who was bereft of any strand of hair and his skin darker than the darkest night. The green orb came out from a spell circle the hideous man drew. His mouth was stretched inhumanly widely into a twisted, ghastly grin.  

“Well, what do we have here?” he asked.

King sprawled on the floor of the cage sweat beads rolling down his skull head. He retched but nothing came up. Panic was building within him writhing in anguish for release. He looked at Nyarlathotep with complete hatred. “You were the one who killed my Mom, weren’t you?”  

Nyarlathotep looked at him with an amused smile. “You have to be more specific than that, child; I may be eternal, but that doesn’t mean I have an internal memory box that catalogues every individual scream.”  

Luz gripped the Necronomicon with anger. “So you killed King’s mother and cursed him?” She looked at the despairing demon. “And you decided to take it as a memento to remember your kill?”  

Nyarlathotep shrugged. “As I have said, I cannot be held to remember every one of my little endeavors.”  

Nyarlathotep snapped his fingers again. This time, the top of the cage opened with a gush of running water dropping down. Eda and the others were not too freaked out in that moment, but they could quickly see that the more water flowing into their cell, it was accumulating quickly and already taking the shape of the cage. They looked at Nyarlathotep who in turn gave them a look of humor. They banged their fists against the cage’s walls, but it only rebounded on them.  

“Nyarlathotep! Stop this nonsense!” Luz yelled. “You’ll drown them.”  

“I will free them,” Nyarlathotep promised, “but you will have to give me the Necronomicon in return.”  

“And how do I know that you won’t go against your promise?” Luz asked reasonably. It made sense for her to doubt the Crawling Chaos’ claims, but in her peripheral vision, she saw that the water was already up Lilith and Eda’s waists. King jumped on top of Eda’s head to keep his body dry, but this had the negative effect of pushing Eda deeper into the rushing water.  

“I’m afraid that they don’t have long for this world, Luz.”  

Eda and Lilith were up to their necks. “I always thought it would end by some overdose on potion,” Eda lamented.

Concern was in Lilith’s eyes, but she chuckled at the dark joke. “That’s my Edalyn, alright.”  

Luz found herself in internal conflict. She truly wanted to save the three roommates she had, but she couldn’t just hand a book of such cosmic power to the bad guy. Nyarlathotep seemed to read her mind when he spoke again.  

“I feel that you think that if something were to befall your teacher, you would be lost in the world.”  

Luz squinted. “What?”  

“If you were to give the book to me, I will make you my personal protégé; you will learn about all the secrets of this world and truly become the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles. Leagues above your mentor, and even Belos himself. You can reign by my side as I destroy this world and remake it befitting to our image. The universe and the gods themselves will look at you in favor and you would never have the need to want again. Is that a deal?”  

Luz could admit that Nyarlathotep’s deal did have a kernel of her interest. Knowledge over everything could come in handy. While she did love Eda dearly, Eda was at a loss now because of her magic being at an all-time low. Maybe with Nyarlathotep’s help, she could learn a way of curing Eda of her curse and subsequently return her back to her previous state. As she thought, she took another glance at the cage now taken aback. The three captives were completely submerged in the water and were desperately hitting the walls of the cage in hopes of breaking them. Liquid was filling their lungs, cutting their oxygen supply sharply. They moved their legs back and forth in a fishy motion. Yet for every strike and punch they could muster, the cage’s walls jiggled back from the brunt force.  

Luz turned to Nyarlathotep. “No; I refuse.”  

Before Nyarlathotep’s eyes, Luz flipped the Necronomicon over revealing several fire glyphs on the back. Nyarlathotep’s eyes bulged from their sockets. “Mortal, please reconsider!”  

Luz took another glance at Eda and the others and saw that their movements were screeching to a halt and they sunk towards the ground of the cage. Luz had made her decision. She slammed her hand on the back of the Necronomicon, and it erupted in flames.  

“No!” Nyarlathotep screamed.  

The flames licked the ancient, crisp pages of the Necronomicon and exploded. A shrill hiss filled the air to indicate that the malevolent spirit lurking in the pages of the banned book was dying. Dark green, eldritch smoke crawled out of the embers of the fire and ascended skyward. Luz heard the pages crackle and pop reminding her of the sweet smell of fresh popcorn like the kind you could get at movie theaters. With one final death throe, the Necronomicon crumbled into a heap of ashes.  

Luz looked at Nyarlathotep spitefully. “You have lost, Nyarlathotep.”  

Instead of seeing his hurt, irritated face, Nyarlathotep was once more smiling. He chuckled deeply from the darkest, deepest regions of his stomach. He held his hands over the burning heap that was once the Necronomicon and absorbed a black light that suddenly appeared. He grew larger with his arms and legs becoming more muscular and pronounced. His abdomen became gargantuan as well to accentuate his broad shoulders. No more did he resemble a human, even if a crude mockery of one. He was now a hulking monster with rows upon rows of sharp, jagged teeth.  

A wave of dark power rocked Emperor Belos’ throne room and empire. It shattered the glass cage containing Eda, Lilith and King, and they were washed out on the floor. Eda coughed up the water in a wheeze. “That was close.”  

Before she said anything else, she saw Nyarlathotep tower before them. Alerted, she looked at Luz. “Kid, did you destroy the book or not?”  

“Yes, Eda, I did, but...something came up that I did not anticipate.”  

The ceiling shook and debris started to sprinkle down. From the point of origin, the dark wave of evil magic wreaked havoc through the Isles due to its intensity. Many of the imperial guards were caught in the wave and effortlessly disintegrated. Buildings and houses crumbled from their destroyed foundations compelling the denizens to evacuate from their houses lest they were the casualties. Emperor Belos hid away alongside Kikimora.  

“Sire, what happened!?” Kikimora asked.  

“It is nothing to be concerned about, Kiki,” Emperor Belos replied. He eyed his throne room. “So it did work as planned.”  

Nyarlathotep cackled his deep, monotonous voice shaking the floor. “It has been a thousand years, but it was completely worth it!”  

Luz couldn’t comprehend what had happened. “But..but I destroyed the Necronomicon; you saw it.”  

“I had already overseen the notion that you would refuse to rule by my side, but the good thing about it is that even if you accepted, it wouldn’t have mattered. I would still have reclaimed the powers that I lost. Even if you destroyed the book, that would entail that my powers would be returned to me either way.”  

Luz looked down. “Then it is truly hopeless.”  

Nyarlathotep raised his large scepter. “Before I lay waste to this world, I did promise Boscha that I would humor her little battle with your friend; may as well set the stage for it.”  

“I’ll find a way to stop you,” Luz declared. It was a heat of the moment thing, but she truly did mean it.  

Nyarlathotep chuckled. “After Boscha wins, I guess I’ll honor my deal with Belos and destroy the Earth for good measure.”  

With that, Nyarlathotep transformed into a black wind and swirled out of the throne room cackling his head off.  

[unproduciblesmackdown]

returning the favor: do you have any hcs re: winston, past or present, that you haven't expounded upon before or at length or just feel like talking about again. whatever you like

Thank You.......yeah idk really what hc's i've like "officially" described here that often lol, but then also there's that whole complication where i don't really ever come up with ideas & when asked anything i'm probably going [???] like, classics like "what do you like out of [broad parameter]" & it's like damn....i dunno. what ideas do i have about winsotn who i've thought about every day for > 2 yrs??? that's tough.....& Then the further chaos of like, when i do have hc's or w/e it's less discrete, concrete invented ideas & more towards the end of the spectrum that's like "well i kinda interpret this part of canon vaguely this way" &/or "i have This vague notion that i haven't solidified into a pretend fact or that i'm not at all committed to or take that seriously" where it's like, not only is this not really nailed down but it's basically free floating / i might have other ideas that would contradict each other lol. seems like a more concise list of Stats that are fully/exclusively my ideas is more exciting, but instead i can offer vague "i dunno / what ifs" based on vibes that i verbosely describe lmao, plus i'll forget a bunch of ideas i may have had i'm sure but you know. what else have i ever offered; never really trying to sell this material to otherwise uninterested parties or only make posts that guaranteed more than one person might enjoy, why would i be starting now; and ig if i write a bunch of stuff here & go "oh & i forgot like a half dozen obvious things" i can add on to it if it's a big deal.....plus it's always tricky with billions in particular being vague abt its own characters lmao, we only see [outside of work] personal stuff if it's going to become directly tied to [definitely at work] professional plotlines, or Maybe glimpse some character contextualizing things for the more central characters....side characters have more blanks to fill but also that means. just more that's blank lol & kinda a mystery of Up To Interpretation.....i figured one way to have any structure for this at all is to have a part looking at each winston involving episode's info. well anyways, after this meandering intro that kind of illustrates how i'm sure the rest of things will go here lol, i'm just gonna throw a bunch of stuff down in general. thanks again for the prompt to do so, b/c why not

really the one concrete discrete idea i have which isn't in the canon text is, of course: he is autistic

does he Know? idk. either way, think he's pretty aware of how he operates (& how he Can't operate), but if he doesn't know that's probably more for the "also: he's self loathing, which was basically textually implied" stuff lol. just mentioned it but i do always enjoy the tayston idea that taylor's talking abt in the past having it floated by a therapist/s or whomever that they could be autistic, them considering it but it not applying; winston going "hmm" & doing his own considering & researching & then maybe exclusively sharing the news w/taylor....but of course, maybe he's figured it out himself at some point before. i do think he'd figure it out himself though rather than anyone else directly suggesting it (maybe out here being diagnosed with "just the guy who sucks who we don't like / won't act right or normal" sort of usual experience) & i think, if he knows, he's not about to want ppl at work to know, b/c not as though anyone (but taylor & other quants) particularly seems to be impressed by his quanting proficiency, but he sure gets some validation/affirmation through that route (more re: that of course) and knows that ppl going "oh he's autistic so of course he's better at Doing Math / computer stuff as a like, mechanical efficiency sort of thing" or whatever. and the fact that taylor can interact with him / gives him some leeway to generally do his thing means he's kind of already got space to operate how he operates, see the start of this section....and idk. transitioning into the next section ig

just an Interpretation Of Canon thing here but, re: how these characters generally operate & what their reason is for being around doing stuff in the first place, i guess it's that winston does genuinely like to do & is interested in the math/coding stuff involved here, was also genuinely interested in working for taylor specifically (whatever The Hype specifically was), then you have taylor having the "despite your demeanor, your skills are superior" stance & appreciating what he can do & letting him do it by hiring him for real & all, & here we are, Q is for Quantitative, baby......he must find it rewarding enough to be getting to do this quanting stuff and also, the potential for validation when anyone recognizes he's good at it & by extension finds something about him good & wants him around to any degree

okay just that Episode By Episode stuff for a section here

3x03:

kinda extra room for interpretation b/c this was written as a one off character and reintroducing him in 3x09, written to be recurring, feels like it kinda offers a Soft Reboot for what we got here, where i guess how i take things is that we can suppose in both 3x03 & 3x09 winston's putting on a deliberate Performance to some degree based on what he thinks the potential employer wants to see, but it's also not completely fake / inaccurate either time, & like, maybe the 3x03 vibe wasn't a type of performance he'd only just ever put on for this axe cap interview, & even if it was deliberately bold maybe he was sort of thinking he Could bank on his value as a quant meaning he holds most of the cards (or can get away with acting like it)

building on that & as a More General point of interpretation again: think it's easy to suppose winston could've had an existence w/many elements of frustrations & disappointments & Rejection, but where like, he did figure out these areas of interest & proficiency that seemed to be a more positive force in his life, & leaned into them / focused on them further for it, & i could see him focusing on milestones / graduating from one thing to the next & conceptualizing like, well, if i just get to This point by working on This thing then i'll have it together & be able to move through existence more successfully, like, there's winston going into undergrad & kind of disappointed he's not having that good a time socially / feels like he's missing out / being left out still, but he can be like, well that's fine (: i'm totally fine abt it b/c i'm focusing on the Education & Experience here & when i'm entering the job market as an amazing quant anyone would want to hire then ppl will be seeing me in a positive light & things will fall into place / go great for me / i'll feel like i fit in & am doing things right within some structure. & i think maybe he Did have all those other job offers / opportunities & he was at least partly feeling a bit "objectively" confident, & also maybe just hoping he Could be that confident & that, you know, if he goes ahead & acts like that's the case, it could be confirmed / become true....anyways then obviously disillusionment time

since his outfits are introduced here: more "just how i'm interpreting canon" stuff in that i do just suppose he is mostly focusing on comfort & it'd kinda get in the way of things if he couldn't. flipflops might've been a statement piece but also i figure at least in part about the comfort / lack of much opportunity for restriction or ill fit or chafing texture or anything, same goes re: pants & shirts. interesting he likes to wear the patterned layers but doesn't really wear like, stripes or plaid ever. plus it could well be that Just A Tee is too informal unless you're the formalest of all by virtue of position, i.e. the ceo, but also we sure often enough see him wearing hoodies &/or multiple layers, like, maybe that's just for warmth or weight or what have you, always considering "what if it's about being self conchy as well (different way of saying self conscious)"

3x09:

so yeah with winston not having taken another job (at least maybe only like, temporary ones as these self contained gigs / just something to pay the bills) figure it's been a Depressive Period for him here lol & deliberately going on a journey of like self reflection / examination & going "haha yeah hated what i saw" is like, i don't think the self loathing is anything new, the confidence in 3x03 kind of an optimistic bandaid lol like well here's the new me as i understand / hypothesize / hope he could be, totally confident in being backed up by how valuable he is as a quant, then taylor kind of ripped that off and wound's open again but that wound was also not brand new or something he was unaware of / that didn't affect him before now

re: math meetup, i can see that being him presenting more evidence of his talent as a quant but also specifically going "see, i do this collaborative thing" to present this more conciliatory and cooperative approach to taylor, & am also taking it as evidence that he really does Enjoy math / coding stuff beyond it simply being a means to a professional end. i also like to think he has been / continues going to math meetup regularly, at least once a month, maybe every other week, and that it's this semi social event, like the relevant irl group you found back in the day that like, meets up for pizza before and drinks afterwards. i also like to think that, like, while he might come off as A Bit Much during said math meetup / just speak up frequently enough and often enough with some insistence lol, people Are there to meet up about the math and his contributions Are valued despite if his delivery/approach isn't always endearing or whatever. and even if he's not really popular / warmly embraced in the more [socializing event] bookends of the meetup, he's perfectly tolerated, and there's even a person or two or three (also regular attendees) who do vibe with him enough to like, invite / even want him to sit with them / talk with them outside that Math Setting. math meetup pals, maybe he doesn't meet up with these people outside these events but maybe they have each other's contacts and sometimes text. not these intimate personal relationships, but still something real and positive and refreshing. it'd be nice if math meetup could kinda be like what he hoped for from quanting, this way his math lets him "qualify" to access this group / activity, his aptitude "making up for" perceived lack of interpersonal / social charm & charisma & what have you, & having some reliably friendly people around even if of course that's not on its own going to mean he's totally socially fulfilled / not often lonely or anything. hc: he's often lonely & not totally socially fulfilled

he does, of course, want to work for taylor specifically, as long as they want him to, and this is sort of his second chance to find validation through working as a quant lol. think that yeah sure winston likes validation in general, who doesn't but also of course he's maybe a bit Above Average sensitive to / keen on it, but he'll also care about Affirmation if it's coming from people whose opinion he particularly values. think that it's easy to suppose he's also especially sensitive to taylor's assessments here thanks to the fact they really hit a (raw) nerve with him like, sure is the potential to get caught up in feedback loop city & say, have a few months mired in self loathing & an especial lack of certainty & confidence, if someone's kinda gone "i hate your self hatred" lol, but he also Did have this especial interest in / high opinion of taylor before that 3x03 interview, & so that's what continues to be part of it here

but then also interpreting that second 3x09 scene as like, he Does independently Know His Value as a quant and yknow not only has his pride but also can't and isn't going to first and foremost focus on trying to socially perform being peak Accommodating and Appealing here lol. but he still cares about what taylor thinks, wants to work for/with them, and i think it was Mutually Appreciated in the last scene that there was Mutual Effort to cooperate w/the other, giving him a Cue instead of just being mad & obfuscating it unless & until giving up on him completely or w/e is Constructive. interpreting winston as someone who sure can be a bit petty on purpose, especially in the face of some wounded pride (where he seems to take pride in his quant abilities & maybe not much of anything else: see the self loathing otherwise), but isn't really one to be deliberately antagonistic, especially not towards, yknow, the person he specifically wants to appeal to, but he also knows he can come off as grating whether inadvertently or not, so he might be testing the waters a little as well

3x11

he's using headphones even though no one else is in the room, that's a preference / he may also just like to block out other sound in general, as there's no audio of [winston's music faintly playing as / before he takes off his headphones] or indication he paused anything. does he like metal, what with the yngwie malmsteen reference? maybe, but that might just be a Billions Reference thing that isn't meant to indicate much / anything abt the specific character. i don't have any hcs about it anyways besides "okay" if so

first time we see his watch, it's not the calculator watch until s5 but i am a fan of said calc watch....gotta suppose it could represent him being here for the math of it all, what with how fancy/expensive watches are kinda the whole like status / power play thing, and a calculator watch is, afaik, not expensive, these casio calculator watch listings i'm seeing are all priced like, $15 to $25 range. so.

2nd scene is the first time we see sleeves pushed up, a frequent choice, maybe if he's focusing sleeves against forearms / Wrists & Hands can be bothersome. also not the first time he puts his hands in his pockets but i think that's a deliberate choice for winston's sort of Default Pose, equate it to the choice to have jared hang / hold on to his backpack straps.

guess he can also be a bit petty / rude / grating on purpose if ppl are getting in the way of his mathing / coding or otherwise thwarting it, at least probably taylor can relate / sympathize what with them wanting to Get It Right / being bothered if people get it wrong but could've avoided this

noticing all the caffeine and the fact he maybe didn't leave the basement / was powering through that project All At Once....just noting that down as a potential Approach, wanting to not interrupt focus &/or bear down & keep a fairly intense pace until it's finished / stay in the zone or what have you

definitely doing some deliberately cocky Testing / pushing back / amicable power struggle with taylor there, confirming he does have leverage due to that quanting ability after all, Despite His Demeanor / not being "sweet"

by this point definitely consciously kinda wants taylor to rail him.

4x03

i have no concrete hc's of instances inspiring winston to think he's "always seeing the future" but god i wish he did. he's right a lot though, maybe he just notices as much lol

talking mostly to taylor here, then concluding with "i only thought it but didn't say it; doesn't count....damnit." like he wants Their validation thanks, even if recognizing his Win here still wouldn't help them either way....also first time we see him w/coworkers for real, he's really freely Interacting.....time to go ahead and say he'd like to be work friends / at least have friendly interactions at work, might be a bit desperate for such positive social interactions, especially in this environment where he thinks the "objectively" good thing about him is most relevant, but it's cringe & fail (&/or vulnerable to Attack) to outright Want something, like validation / affirmation / a positive response or a simple "yeah you're right" "positive" response

first Space Shirt, followed by ones that are like, also &/Or Sci Fi Shirts. does he like space? i guess so

he's autistic

4x08

here & in 4x11, we don't know how he's gotten this info about taylor re: the arc w/their dad or with axe cap, but he's apparently mused on it on his own like this & isn't just quoting what someone else told him about how taylor must feel about xyz & how that might apply to the situations at hand, even though (unless he cassandra'd it) he wouldn't've had that much cause to suppose it'd definitely be relevant to have ideas about how taylor feels / is navigating a situation & why, maybe he just likes to be prepared like that / stay in the loop but yknow, maybe he's just also interested in them as a person beyond what's most immediately relevant to him doing quant stuff for them

he's already done the sort of kicking himself / wincing / apologizing or agreeing he fucked up an exchange thing before but, the genuine disappointment / momentary discouragement in it always lol....self loathing guy

love how he has these little like, clarifying explanations of things. "total control of the instrument," "always seeing the future," "because i win".....he's out here wanting to communicate to connect & to be understood, not so much as a potential for a power play / status climb and thus a conflict.....can see ppl who are used to / Do see interactions in that light to interpret winston yelling about having won as a like, rubbing it in people's faces show of superiority thing, but pretty sure he's just excited and wants a high five

4x11

having talked about the fact none of the desks in the tmc hq main floor seem to be winston's (& knowing that Could just be wroland not being reliably available to be in the bg of shots lol, analyzing s4 shots for some Consistently Empty desk) but it is fun to also consider that maybe tmc Could've had a secret extension in that that quant haunt in the basement was kept. a little more furnishing and it could be pretty chill, even though the lack of windows might not always be ideal. where's he sit!

also the whole "guy who'd be the first one smothered" moment like, guess i could've mentioned it in 3x03 more but yeah my Headcanon here is that winston maybe has a master's degree, not a phd though (him saying "50 phds" in 3x11 i think was meant to differentiate from him on both points, aka he's 1 guy, without a phd) & this is his first "real" job in any field. b/c i'm guessing like, people are here to get Paid, but as mentioned w/the watch (& just how winston acts in general, he doesn't really seem like he's raring to show off / really take advantage of having money or anything) it doesn't seem like he's, like, the "exceptionally focusing on personally making as much as possible" guy, and lauren's remark seems to emphasize / place the context on winston just not having like, savings from prior salaried years at a job or anything, more of a practical matter, maybe he's out here hoping for some more financial security, also they are all living in nyc, so. on that note, maybe he has an okay apartment but like, not without problems / not absolutely ideal, but it's okay. this would just be Convenient as an hc also lol

don't think the monologue was completely memorized, but it wasn't completely off the cuff either, he'd maybe been brainstorming scripts in his head / had some particular parts solidified word for word, but also hardly think he was guaranteed planning to deliver an admonishlogue at all, seems like it was some important factors that he was just kind of already irritated, nobody was listening / people Were social pressuring him to drop it or not interested in entertaining like "yeah i think you should talk to taylor about it" at all, think it was clear that talking to others was only going to lead to them telling him to drop it / trying to not have anyone say anything to taylor, and then that taylor just jumped in, which i hardly think he was hoping for

always Something that we can expressly see winston moving to sit down in that soon to be empty meeting room as everyone else is clearly filing out lol, like, can see how he might not be able to go "well, back to work" immediately and need some irritation / feeling like shit / guess who just got yeeellllllllllled aaaaaat to burn off, might need some time to absorb "well i guess i just deferred so no bonus as was probably expected," but can also suppose that maybe when winston gets majorly Shut Down he has shutdowns. saying all of four words in the wake of things, otherwise the fact he has this approach of tensing up, not talking at all, kind of just holding onto eye contact as his last way of "properly" participating in the exchange w/o bailing entirely, while also outwardly withering, like clearly these kinds of moments are pretty significantly affecting....feels like he could find it difficult to talk much, or at all, in the wake of some / need some time to recuperate a bit & have some distance & quiet & not just jump back into work like he's having a fine and normal time. sometimes pondering like, not only those notions like taylor insisting winston not be Interrupted when he hasn't technically started talking yet (giving him the buffering / latency time) but also like, fun kinda imagining them sitting across from each other having a texting conversation....or times winston would rather have an exchange via email......or make use of the sticky notes......or just have taylor talking to him and picking up on his nonverbal responses

winston's very Not present in tmc meetups / get togethers this season & again we know that this could be because his actor wasn't very available but it's still the case In Canon that there's only so many tmcers and they're all seeing each other outside work / market hours for varyingly formal or informal purposes & he's never included. & simultaneously hold the hc's that he could be choosing not to go or he could just never be invited in the first place l o l.....in either of these situations the reason for declining to go or being excluded could be up to "b/c other ppl don't like having him around" and idk, best case scenario is he doesn't want to go for some other reason, but he acts pretty okay with the All Hands meetups we do see / when in meetings with the other named employees he's pretty raring to interact with them, so :/

4x12

i do like to think it's fun to imagine What If Taylor Had A Phonecall With Winston Before This Monologue; someone once told me that explaining is an admission of failure, i'm sure you remember, i was on the phone with you, sweetheart.....just them both having a more sympathetic approach with each other and a sort of dialed back reconciliation, tbt 3x09, without an audience / roomful of other people

do think that his wearing a tmc logo tee into axe cap hq was a deliberate Statement Piece, like wearing flipflops into axe cap in his true first time being there lol

first time we see the backpack, & the headphones (in this season), like the point you (nothingunrealistic) made about the backpack possibly kind of exerting pressure / compression in a Sensory Way. let's see it again

as good a time as any to bring up how it's such a consistent pattern that it Must be a choice that winston smiles in this direction :/ and grimaces / winces / frowns this way :\ but a choice of the actor of course, was it ever a conscious thing on winston's end, would not put it beyond the realm of possibility he's ever consciously thought of stuff like "even if words fail me(tm) i Gotta hang on to eye contact".....i'm thinking of times he is smiling hard enough that you just gotta do it more symmetrically, like here in 4x12

5x01

he likes bagels

think that this could've been another case of "people who are used to interactions used for conflict / power plays / stepping on other people to status climb (axe cappers in general, maybe team ben having to be extra prone to be on the lookout for these strategies when they're more often on the receiving end of them) misinterpreting winston socializing as means of connection (wanting to talk about the common work thread / interest with coworkers)"

even if for some reason quants were cold shouldering axe cappers like, a sound strategy even if team ben are worthy exceptions. Winston Can Get Petty When People Blame Quants Talking About Being Quants For Axe Cappers Harassing Tmc & also when in the process of doing so everyone's like "also you're smarter than us but no you're not, any math quants could do fundamental analysts could do better" like, winston getting more deliberately antagonistic when ppl are going after his Math Aptitude / value as a quant when that's his "objective" point of pride & confidence & possibly like haha self loathing can't get me here

5x02

winston's decimal points being more precise here i think indicates that the show is not taking the stance of "yeah the quants are just any old analysts with an attitude of superiority" lol

do think he selected that particular seating placement b/c it's like, hey furthest away from axe cap, most aligned with taylor's desk & angled towards it, perfect.....what a letdown

guess this episode suggests he and mafee have chats sometimes, and winston maybe confides At All Sensitive Info w/the guy? bold

always just smh like well thank god we were given this subplot where winston was a plot device really for dollar bill's arc or whatever............what a gift

5x03

just noticing as always how winston is the one person saying they should go for it vs the other two's skepticism / trepidation, and taylor decides to go for it.....they do value his input / trust his judgment

i am also noticing how often winston, as the math guy who doesn't really fit in w/ the whole axe / caply approach & style, has this role in giving taylor these crucial opportunities to pursue their own direction rather than be mired down in the misery of axe cap determining everything....3x11 & his algorithm letting them break completely away from axe cap, 4x11 & his admonishlogue making some Points & then next episode taylor does decide to abandon the revenge jag & says they were wrong & they're sorry....5x03 & this nlp strategy plotline being the first thing taylor could actively pursue for tmc after 2 eps of being dragged painfully through axe cap nonsense, & the fact this, in the next episode, leads to the Impact Fund idea / mase carb

5x04

see that last point

5x05

guess that until confirmed, The Glances being significant is a Headcanon Interpretation lol. anyways i do like taylor giving him these discreet, nonverbal cues as a very deliberate method of communication titrated betwixt them

oh right and an Age Cue here, before that was nailed down i think i already hc'd winston as either the same age as, or a year older than taylor, and that's still true lol, think that's how it goes with the timelines (taylor's being kinda uncertain, and winston's as well, having prior just kinda gone "well if taylor's 22 when they show up as the typical post undergrad age, and each season spans approx a year, and maybe winston spent just a year or two post undergrad getting a master's b/c nothing nails down how long it would take & he could've kinda been ahead of the curve as it were, he could be, say, 23 thru 25 in s3 when he shows up, to taylor's Maybe 23" as the Idea)

just wants to work for taylor as long as they'll have him, but would also like to be openly valued / affirmed on a pretty basic level lol...

one of those matters that's like, i do think that this is what the material is Trying to convey but it's not concrete / explicit, in that i think winston somewhat Likes rian right off lol like. i mean he's also still annoyed on principle, this is maybe his replacement & that stings that it's even a possibility & of course he has reason to want to feel like "oh well this person Clearly sucks" lol, but then there he is trying to scope out the situation & get immediate intel & it's like, here's this fellow 20something you immediately think is pretty (the mental comparison to an A lister as a dunk, lmao) & you see her being perfectly friendly with your nice coworker you're also friendly enough with, that's one degree of separation, now here he comes talking about how cool & epic & smart & capable she is, again makes sense he's still first & foremost bothered by the situation & has cause to just be more jealous about how well everyone immediately thinks of her (see: winston making bad first impressions that may never be undone, the fact other coworkers were probably never going around openly impressed with / praising him after meeting him for 5 sec, or like, ever) but i suppose this immediate underlying sense of attraction / affinity hits in that First Sighting as well

love that we see the feet up on the desk show of confidence again, very funny & glad it's back.....a tool in his arsenal for when he's Very Bothered But (unsuccessfully) Acting Very Unbothered / when he's trying to pitch for his employment lol

when did he have a first gf? perfect time for an hc.....feels like it'd have been like, idk, older high schoolers at the youngest, that kind of emotional commentary....or in college. sometimes pondering the idea like, what if he had a bf first actually.....or not, & Feeling A Way around other guys sometimes like, hmm guess i think this guy is pretty cool &/or i'm kinda like "god i wish that were me" about, then some more noticeable Tension as he's older even if he can't really discern the reason b/c this person's pretty nice & cool actually, hmm. then one day you're doing hw together with a while for code to compile & Oh Hey Lol

meanwhile think clearly rian defuses the Reason For Rivalry (and also clearly immediately likes him / interacting with him & you know, outright sticks up for him & in this significant way) & then when they connect over Math it's all coming together very outright like Oh Hey Lol 😳

also he Gets Right Back To Work easily enough, & like, i think already there's a deliberate performance of "i'm now totally unbothered," but he's just pretty good at shaking things off apparently. & he kind of has to be, to not bail completely or else tamp down his own personality / avoid interactions, but you know. plus that like, he may get irritated when his pride's wounded but around here people can have a whole crisis & arc about it if their egos are bruised in the slightest, so like. pretty blasé

5x06

this isn't really any hc or Interpretation by any stretch but this is the first time we've seen winston pull that particular attitude in that second scene with rian and it's beautiful.....if something's bothering him he's so often like outright indignant but this is like, i'm Bothered but i'm being so dignant about it, for like 4 sec

also the bright green hoodie / bright, high contrast, geometric blockbuster tee is so Vivid but like, always noting how he wears relatively colorful outfits. fun to go "maybe this one's deliberately extra eye catching b/c of this new crush" lol

5x07

the difficulty in reading that much into things when the lack of sobriety could be making any & everything an outlier, & can't even really read into "apparently down to take stimulants (beyond caffeine) on a dime" b/c well, so is everyone else, so that this situation can unfold, we knew he had a crush on rian (or i guess we didn't, but this is pretty direct about it), we knew he likes validation, taylor Knows him well enough that it's not just like "oh he's acting weird? well that's winston for you" to them, which we also knew but it's fun to confirm further lol

and now for some more free floating / general concepts

family? i have no idea. feel like he either has no siblings or several but yknow, anything's possible. we know what he's like Now, don't think he got that solid self esteem / self confidence as an emergent quality from [everything that happened to him before 3x03] & don't suppose he has this like, rock solid close warm familial relationship of understanding & unconditional love & support w/whoever he grew up with, parents or siblings or whoever he lived with....like, the relationship/s could be Fine but you know, still not all that close

i don't think he was every completely friendless (or if he was, it didn't last Too long) in terms of like, throughout school maybe he had some pals, no amazing close [fingers crossed Like That] ones where someone had like, grown up as his next door bestie and they did everything together & knew everything about each other, nothing all that close, but he had people to sit with at lunch or what have you, even if at times like, the table nobody else really sits at but the people who don't have anywhere else to sit lmao. maybe some slightly closer friendships here & there, but people often kind of got subsumed into other friend groups that he wasn't otherwise a part of / otherwise just kind of gradually distanced again...but also possible he had perfectly amicable occasions of like, maybe only having a class or two with certain people, not striking up intimate friendships but hitting it off well enough.........like, winston's out here Not having been stomped down into suppressing his personality all the time, he's still fairly earnest & forthcoming & eager to connect, just sort of vaguely going for "he maybe have always had this element of discouragement & disappointment re: socializing / connecting / forming relationships / sometimes just being accepted on a basic level, but he also didn't have his spirit totally extinguished either" although there's also the room for stuff like, yknow, him Holding Out Hope like "well nobody likes me now / i'm unhappy but maybe once i'm in college [gets to college & still isn't having a great time] okay well once i Enter The Workforce" lol. you know

but it's also like, hardly think he's Only Just Now experiencing the [winston: ___ everyone: get his ass] type stuff & pushback & punishment & disdain over not really doing anything but people hate his style & vibe, & feel like there's also still room for like, yep wow got burned sometimes / having had some pretty negative experiences......we do have to end up in this place where, you know, 3x03 happens and he doesn't just go "guess finance isn't for me!" & dust himself off & go get some Guarantees from some tech firms, & instead he's Really Glad [Taylor] Called & hasn't taken some other more desired job between 3x03 & that call & is immediately like "good news: i do hate myself" so like, can't see him having just thrived his way to this point....evidently not all dating relationships have been just epic highs & victories, maybe he has those math meetup pals now & maybe idk there's other people he's in sort of in contact with, maybe people from college / grad school or the like, still not that close, figure he's generally been lonely like, overall, despite regularly enough seeking out / striving for connections

oh yeah speaking of, the idea that he has a cat maybe lol, in part simply for company, a little guy that lives in your house / apartment....but also maybe he doesn't

always just some general notions like, also idk maybe he engages in hobbies, talks to people through that just like with math meetup....talked about the Embroidery idea, got that computers/programming connection, was thinking like, idk fuck it amateur photography, develop your own film, maybe he took a class in college or high school or something, same with like, maybe he plays a musical instrument, said "the cello, why not" about that as an early [shrug] idea lol. he does like space, maybe he does Anything with that....rip to any astronomy clubs In Nyc like, guess you're not seeing shit, but. 4x11 au, after deferring his bonus he goes to some cool cinematographic celestial occasion like taylor & the sea glass fish carousel lmao. taylor catches up & they have their [i'm sure you remember, i was on the phone with you, sweetheart] exchange lol.....except also not, b/c you wouldn't really want to have Parallels with m/any moments ft. wendy & taylor :/

recalled like a particularly casual / throwaway idea about like "lol what if he was somewhat thalassophobic" in part b/c once actor william dropped that lore abt himself in an interview, but. could have somewhat some other phobia/s. or not really any! what a world

maybe sometimes he's out here like, single & ready to Fuck like, focusing on just hooking up w/people sometimes rather than really looking to date at the juncture, although it could both be true like, he'd Like to be dating but also doesn't really currently want to do all the Putting Himself Out There & such of seeking it out / trying to consciously navigate it, but sometimes it's more manageable like, just wanting to have sex. looking out for himself when he can & how he can lol

speaking of, some vague sexy hcs

gets pegged

especial fan of Tongue Against Tongue texture, enjoys some Grounding elements to avoid being overwhelmed / narrow things to the more relevant sensory input at hand, like the weight/pressure of a partner leaning / lying against him / holding him tightly, if he's overwhelmed in a good way / kinda got some sensory overflow in a good way he might cry during sex In A Good Way lol, took some time maybe in his Personal Sexual Experience to figure out some general differences in "what he doesn't like at all" or "what's off the table / too unpleasant for him at some times but Not necessarily at all times & might be completely enjoyable sometimes," like, am i willing to perform oral sex, am i willing & Enthusiastically so, is that way too much actually, it can be all of them at varying times....maybe in more everyday general situations he refrains from stims in front of others unless stressed enough, but while having sex with someone especially if at all nervous it's like, there can be this transition between repressing stims & being more unfiltered / uninhibited where they kind of build up & then come through in kicks only to be reined back in, either like, he simply does go for a more reined in approach the whole time or anyone else is willing to ride this out with him / he kind of has the time & space to figure out more of a flow, in which case he might still stim but you know, not as though people aren't used to stims in this situation, i.e. reacting to stimulation with movement & vocalization is at least expected & it could once again be like "well he's a bit weird with it but hey" lol or you know, not that some partners can't be understanding or have had experience w/similar partners. hardly make or break but this can be a vulnerable interaction here / hard to shake the self consciousness & sense of "i Do have to filter myself and act The Right Way" all at once just b/c you'd want to

hey and let him sing karaoke or something lmao, winston is as Dramatic as he is, he would give a performance. work in a way to let everyone who sings sing around lol, could throw in some Affectations so that it's like yeah winston can sing without having to be like "wow winston, when'd you become a trained broadway performer" lmao. imagine. which reminds me of the time will joked about like, oh yeah winston Gets That A Lot re: people recognizing he looks like the guy in deh, aka will roland....the limitations of "this is set in real nyc" including occasional references to recent / popular shows, fuck it maybe will roland does also exist in the billions universe. well anyways it would be fun. the karaoke anyways, and that he'd give a top tier Performance whether or not people are first and foremost enjoying his technical / artistic skill at the art of singing, it'd at least be personality infused and engaging

taking it way back to the ideas about winston's social misadventures in general, i'm sometimes considering for fics i never end up writing if he might have some like, misgivings / anxieties about like, is this person i Like acting like they maybe Like me back as some kind of elaborate joke, & maybe the caution comes from experience like you know, classic over the line "pranks" like asked out As A Joke, kissed As A Dare that he wasn't aware of, think there could be like, would be Friendship / friendly acquaintanceship experiences in there where such "pranks" / "jokes" / "messing with him" (and not in a good way) could happen, or even just you know, more Spontaneously, don't even know this person & he's treated as a joke for other ppl's entertainment, realizing at the time or retrospectively like oh maybe i was more being bullied then having any positive social interaction / getting to feel at least "included" or what have you, like, the idea of getting to hang out with a group as The Funny Guy, but he's had these experiences getting to hang out with a group & realize it's b/c they thought he was funny / Amusing in a laughing At him, not with him way, which is easy also b/c winston isn't really out here trying to be funny that we've seen lol. only realizing he was still being excluded after some time / distance from the situation, or escalating open hostility / just more blatant meanness / over the line shit from some people, maybe some stuff that just immediately feels shitty but he figured was just like, well idk, maybe that's normal & still friendly, maybe it also felt more outright embarrassing / demeaning at the time but it's like haha yeah you got me :'] at the time just to save any face lol.....possible unexpected / spontaneous amicability in his socializing history, but also shittiness, whether it's coming at him all at once or he's kind of holding out hope like, well, i just keep at it / have a Friendly attitude here and surely i'll make friends b/c if people didn't like me At All why are they talking to me / letting me be here at all.....

always kind of pondering Fashion Variation, we haven't seen it but it could be possible, musing on "what would he think Looks Good On Him / how does he feel capable of like, dressing for romantic success or what have you lol" like, was the vivid 5x06 outfit anything, cue the drawing like, a bralette & short shorts is shaking it up and could be a Felt Cute outfit and could also be comfortable enough....not always That much room in men's(tm) fashion before you start having to be aware of [Gender] and dunno that winston out here has had the inspiration / motivation / opportunity to consider / try out / explore but hey. what are we here for

just remembered that post like "uhh i just saw a guy crying in the library & then his phone alarm went off & he stopped crying, opened his laptop & started typing / it's called time management" lmao like winston's not out here having the Most amazing time, he could have such Time Management experiences of like, letting it out some on purpose but then reining it right back in, and/or just like some spontaneous paroxysms of crying for a minute or two more unexpectedly in a "do you ever [experience a tiny inconvenience] & realize the thread by which you're hanging on is quite thin" way or otherwise, you know, oops experienced this frustration & now i'm crying over it, or idk, just feeling a bit more vulnerable for whatever reason & something has unexpectedly plucked some emotional string attached to another string attached to another & the resonance = i'm crying now ig. he can't be Thriving out here & i don't think he's all about having such a stranglehold on emotions that he's like oh tf i Never cry (aside from having sex, in a good way)

although speaking of like, emotional repression, maybe he's out here just "good at" compartmentalizing some experiences lol in that "well anyways, back to work" way & stuff like, sure he knew he was risking it in 4x11 but it also did not seem to affect his dynamic with mafee at all lmao like wow.....

think that him not really having anything on his work desk is a choice / preference but also am not sure that that really applies to anything else lmao. what if he had a little plant. that'd be funny

oh yeah and the idea that winston might literally have like prophetic dreams & they're just kind of a nuisance to him but sometimes they can be plot devices in fics (that don't exist) about him kissing people

well i'm just calling it a night there lol but like, it always feels Lacking writing out hc's like, plenty of ideas but also hardly any, and yet the fact that other individual ideas are so Vague / casual that it wouldn't be like "oh i gotta share this via post or manifesting it some other way" so then it feels like, oh no, if i don't list absolutely Everything on something that's specifically a list of hc's, i can never talk about whatever gets left out......and just that like, i ought to have a bunch of really specific, concrete, unique Factoids about winston here to be of any interest but hey lmao. that hypothetical set of concepts is never gonna happen, & the Ultimate Comprehensive List Of Everything I've Ever Pondered Re: Winston is also going to be difficult lmfao (not as though that's what you've asked in the first place) but you know, we took a swing at things here & covered some ground & the thinking about & talking about winston never ends, & this isn't really a post meant to have broad appeal / if you're not already having fun reading vague musings about the quant then i'm sorry you're reading this after having read all that and gone "wow, i'm disappointed" lmao but hey, weird choices made to bring you to this point......also god knows plenty of hcs are more filed away under specific like [Tayston], [Benston], [Riawin] sort of things (lol, [Mafon]) b/c on the one hand, i find it easier to kind of think in Scenarios and the details particular to the "scenes" therein, but i am also not good at thinking of those scenarios! out here operating on vibes, he's autistic and wants to kiss taylor (also now rian but that's kinda right in canon, not just my head) and that's really the crucial info here

[mrs-nate-humphrey]

no-sleep 1x09rewatch ramble-essay (all content warnings for the episode apply here)

i was just like. oh i’ll watch a feel-good episode of gossip girl! s1 thanksgiving ep is great isn’t it! blairenate family feels!!! ruflyson love triangle drama!!! vdw siblings AND humphrey siblings hanging out!!! dan’s “see you later waldorf” *salutes & closes the cab door* !!!

& like. yes i DID remember serena’s whole not being sober on thanksgiving thing, and yes i DID remember blair’s ED relapse - which is heavy, but eating disorder content isn’t particularly triggering for me personally (i find it kind of cathartic, if we’re being honest) BUT . i somehow forgot. that THIS was the episode which has howard’s suicide attempt?? and now i have some of the most painful nate feels in the world. 

blah blah blah, leight’s acting brought me to tears, which probably doesn’t sound like a very big deal but sort of is, for a variety of reasons (watching things doesn’t usually make me cry, it’s happened maybe a single-digit number of times before + also just my blair feels in general --> she’s a really interesting character but i don’t find her AS relatable as i do dan, or nate, or vanessa, or maybe even serena at times --> so i usually do have a bit of a disconnect re: watching her, which i really do not have for like. dan, for instance.) 

i just cannot divorce that very cute outfit blair wears with her ED relapse - which brings me to the next point, which is that blair is maybe THE only character ever for whom her clothing choices and her plotlines are so interwoven in my head (lemon yellow shirt and funky little hat is her mean bridesmaids competitive game day, yellow-&-orange dress is her choose chuck over dan moment, genderqueer plaid skirt and grey shirt is her “dan loves me for me” moment, white shirt with the pink flowers is her get owned by nelly yuki moment, etc etc)... the only other time i noticed outfits is derena cotillion, but that’s just because i LOVE derena cotillion, and date matching shirts, but that’s because i am tuned into all things date and couldn’t possibly tell you what those outfits actually symbolise, with the exception of dan’s pink flannel shirt from when he’s holding milo. or any of the outfits from 2x06 because that is my episode hands down. oh hey would you look at that, i do actually form associations. but you gotta believe me on this, blair’s the one it happens most naturally for, which is very strange. i think it’s because her outfits are always Statements in a way that the other characters never do, except for jenny, who is a fashion designer, so it’s Different for her. what am i trying to say. 

oh yeah another iconic outfit is serena’s golden jacket and bright blue pants to the morgue to identify what might be chuck’s corpse. she literally dressed like she was going clubbing and i respect her so much for that. 

anyway. gosh. nate just - getting gaslit by his mom, getting reprimanded by his dad for telling his mom to stop being rude/petty... howard was like “don’t fight my fights for me” but nate wasn’t even doing that?? he was just asking his mom Not to be rude, and the fact that nate got told off at the end of that interaction... uh. it shows a lot about the archibald family unit in general and just. how nate is sort of treated as ... i don’t have the right word, but my brain is like “second class citizen”... which is absolutely NOT the right concept for nate but like. he is treated like he is Less a part of the family than his parents are....... RIGHT until one of them (or both of them!) fuck up in a big way and it’s down to nate to fix their mess. i haven’t read “adult children of emotionally immature parents” but from whatever i’ve heard about it, i think nate could do with reading it. or not. maybe it’d just make him sadder.

and fuck - nate’s whole talk with his dad and his dad telling nate that he doesn’t know how he can go on, etc etc... idk what to say or where to draw the line but i have really complicated howard & nate feelings. i really truly think anne was the worse parent (not like it’s a competition of course) and i sometimes seriously wonder if maybe howard archibald had a more supportive life partner, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up being ~like that~ to nate (doesn’t justify anything of course). anyway nate’s sitting by the hospital bed and his dad is denying his suicide attempt at first and nate’s just like, no, stop. this is also making me think now of nate sitting by serena’s hospital bed after tripp, and nate possibly sitting by blair’s hospital bed some point pre-series (eating disorders are serious and i really do think, esp with eleanor being eleanor, that it must’ve gotten pretty bad for blair before she got help - which. sorry. i know, it’s sad but i’m just putting together pre-existing implications.) all i’m saying is some point in the future i wouldn’t be surprised if nate’s just. uncomfortable in hospitals and unable to piece together why. oh yikes i just remembered blair’s miscarriage. at which point do hospitals become overly suffocating for natie, remind him of his own helplessness, etc... because i really think they would. anyway. 

anne archibald chills me because she is such an accurate representation of a very specific kind of mother and. i hate it for nate obviously but i struggle to remember a time i’ve seen a tv mom who i can 100% relate to so hard. as in. fuck. worded that wrong. whose SON i can relate to so hard. ouch. this may be a moot point because i don’t watch much tv, but honestly anne & nate is just. a Lot. in a way that is significant to Me, specifically. this is part of my pet peeve (not enough to fight with anybody don’t worry) when people make edits about mothers & daughters, as if what was happening between nate & anne, somehow didn’t have the same complications - i honestly think there’s some solid eleanor & blair/ anne & nate parallels to be drawn. and we’ve been over this somewhere else, but lily & serena / rufus & dan / rufus & jenny definitely have a lot of the same specific issues (parent projecting on child, etc.) again - everyone engages w the show differently, im ready to admit that like... maybe 65% of my problems with the ‘mothers & daughters’ reading probably stem from gender dysphoria, lol. but whatever.

i have feelings about dan & alison, too... i really do think dan was closer to his mom than to his dad for majority of his childhood, and this ep really cements it. anyway. i don’t have any more words and i’m tired. and i might just watch derena cotillion episode because . derena cotillion episode my beloved... 

wait wait before i forget. venn diagram of humphrey family & van der bilt family & playing american football. i know this has come up before but like. here we go i;m thinking about it again. both dan and nate have been competitively thrown in the grass by a family member in the name of sports. no wonder nate chose dan over chuck in 2x06 (i would put a tone indicator but even i can’t tell if this is /gen or /j) 

[millepara]

aikatsu planet episode 1 thoughts (even with this, I’m holding myself back)

this time I’m watching it subbed just for.... “fun”!

wow they actually put a sort of notice above the video on the site I’m watching it on:

⚠️warning⚠️ you are about to see real unanimated humans

anyway, before I nitpick everything, I want to make it clear again that I know that this show was not made for me, so in the end my opinion is like the least important one out there. just because I don’t enjoy it much doesn’t mean I think they have to change it, or that people who like it should feel bad or something. I am actually very happy to hear that so many people enjoyed it, bc I want aikatsu to be successful so they will keep making and improving the game forever!! please continue to like aikatsu in whatever incomprehensible form it’s decided to assume!!

I completely forgot aikatsu has this little opening bit till I saw it. you can tell that Kaaya apparently does different voices for Hana and Mao in it! huh.

“this is so cute! this one’s even cuter!” calm down you can make those with literally 200 yen worth of supplies and 0 creativity (here I realize I’ve completely ignored the subtitles so far)

focàccia dog

Narumi/Meisa’s version of Happy Aikatsu is so good! before the best I could say about Happy Aikatsu (and the other songs) is well, I can see how it def has promise, but it’s impossible for me to enjoy it much with these singers... it was kind of sending me into a spiral, like do I only like anime songs now? is it a sign of how much my brain has rotted that I can only appreciate singers that are putting on a fake cartoony character voice instead of using their natural singing voice? (this is obv not true, I enjoy other music and mostly only listen to anime stuff when I’m doing things for this blog..) but it turns out that some of Starry Planet just suck! what a relief. anyway I really hope we get a Meisa solo version someday and soon 💘 I want to listen to it more!

meanwhile, these people cheering their brains out and jumping and waving at the screen. do you think she can hear you? are you waiting for her to wave back? gross

(this, like a lot of other things in the ep, is a place where I thought about how I probably wouldn’t notice anything wrong if this was an anime instead. live action forces me to constantly think ‘what if this was happening in real life?’ and react as such, instead of anime where it rarely crosses my mind because obv anime is not real life. dramas are not real life either, but in the case of aipura it is real life humans doing the exact same things anime characters would be doing, and boy do I wish it wasn’t. I’m gonna try not to say this every time I think it but just be aware that it’s there)

so Hana’s identity being Meisa is not only known to everyone, but she’s also been in magazines so people know what she looks like too. so basically if anyone in the crowd other than Mao had bumped into her they would’ve known who she is...

hhfhfh I literally just said the thing about not mentioning this every time but this part where the camera pans down to focus on Mao’s clenched hands with the sparkly sound effect in the bg just totally sucks. I wonder if they considered trying to express Mao awakening to the magic of aikatsu in a way that would make sense outside of anime or if they’re literally storyboarding it as an anime despite it being a drama

Meisa is probably my fav character (w strong competition from Sala) but she wins my award for worst outfits though. a lot of this would be fine on its own but together it’s trying too hard. what are those golden age of Hollywood tortoiseshell sunglasses even doing there

oh, her nails are cute though. I like this sunflower critter and swing pouch too

Mao looked back because she had a clue that the girl she knocked over might be Meisa or have something to do with aikatsu or whatever. Meisa turned around because....? did Mao push her to the ground in a way that was particularly befitting an idol?

honorable mention to the grim thousand-yard stare they’re both wearing

Suddenly an Idol! I realize this is the first time I’ve seen the subtitles.

Seirei HS makes me sad in that it’s not an unrealistically fancy aikatsu school, just marginally nicer than normal. rip

we never did find out what day it is

actually looked at the subs bc I was curious how they translated Mao’s line here. they went with “If I’ve never done it, then it’s worth a try,” which is different from what I got from it. what she said was more like “If I’ve never done it, all I need to do is try,” which is ofc a minor change/a matter of nuance/etc, but what is translation if not minor nuances. it’s way more flippant and full of confidence than saying something’s worth a try imo, implying that she’s pretty sure she’ll succeed so long as she tries. not a difference I’d care about usually but it seems like it’s supposed to say a lot about Mao’s personality. (especially given how this ep plays out.)

hey, here’s something I think is great about Aikatsu Planet, for a change: I love that they establish Mao as already being hugely talented at dancing before she becomes an idol, so it makes sense that she might be able to hold her own to an extent when suddenly pushed into Hana’s role, or why Izumi might think this girl she’s randomly encountered might make a good idol! it makes total sense! hooray!!

...this is putting aside how well Mao is actually dancing here (something I don’t know enough about dancing to say), or wtf she’s doing with all these ballet moves thrown in (barf), or Shiori’s declaration that she was suddenly able to learn it despite only having experience in ballet (let’s generously assume Mao’s some kind of genius when it comes to dance...)

hello to the only girl who imo can pull off being an anime character in real life, Ruli!! she didn’t stand out in the various youtube vids etc and her fashion aside from her PR isn’t to my taste so I didn’t expect anything, but she’s the only one I can watch and think ‘maybe this live action-as-anime thing isn’t the worst after all’... and it’s because she’s so over-the-top and acting like no one ever would irl that it works, I think. I think this is why I also like Sala even though we know the least about her so far... I guess if everyone else was on that level, I’d enjoy this drama a lot more. this is a revelation I’ve just had as I’m typing this... lmao I guess it’s like saying if they were all as good at acting, it would be a better show!! hahaha

imagining Meisa carefully punching a hole in this card with the star-shaped hole punch you can buy at the 100 yen store

BLIGHT SQUARE..... they def meant this to be Bright Square but instead it’s blighted... cackling

“Ruli uses a different type” is not what Izumi said here when Segawa suggested Ruli act as Hana, but rather “Ruli’s personality is totally different.” an important difference because Hana (Mao ver.) also uses a different type.

how does Mao suddenly know to chant aikatsu when she’s running........ it must be the sign of A True Idol

Shiori’s “tablet” that’s a piece of plexiglass with masking tape on the sides

if Mao’s a dance genius who can instantly remember an unfamiliar hip-hop dance why does she need Shiori to demonstrate moves for her

an eyecatch with a real unanimated human on it... ( •᷄⌓•᷅ )

Mao apparently hurled her aipura phone somewhere after the mirror appeared bc she’s not holding it anymore

I wonder how many times we’ll see this long teleportation scene or if that was it. I wonder if Shiori and Izumi also did that with their anime-version selves, or if they did something different. as far as the scene itself goes, I guess I should have some kind of opinion on it bc mirroring in is the whole point of planet, but... it was whatever

“So this is Pripara!”

“Here’s a question: who are we?” Mao actually had to visibly think about it

even if you’re not becoming an idol in Aikatsu Planet, it still changes your clothes. and your eye color. weird

this!! the explanation of the relation between dresses and dressias was really interesting! like everyone else I was wondering about the purpose of fashion designers when the dressias were just going to become outfits anyway, but apparently the designers make simple, unfinished designs that lack detail, and the dressia possesses it to add personality. that... makes sense! I like that a lot actually! but then it calls into question the Dre Dre☆Dressia manga, which shows several dressias who have not made a contract with a pre-existing swing turning into an entire outfit on their own. also it means Aikatsu Planet costume designer is the most boring job in the world, probably

the animation is truly so cute and colorful and unique (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎) arrghg I wish the entire show was animated!! it makes me completely forget about how weird Hana’s voice sounds coming out of an anime character

this clearly looks like some kind of super-powerful top class dressia, there’s no way Hana would be able to get it to work for her, especially when she doesn’t know anything about how to find or interact with dressias--huh? it agreed? ...just like that? oh,

didn’t expect Q-pit to be so spicy. but I don’t mind

I feel like a lot less care has gone into the animation of Izumi and Shiori? it seems a lot more stiff or less frames or whatever. is that just me?

goodbye to the Dressing Road 💔 I don’t mind that this way takes less time though. and ahhh the cgi is so pretty!! I love it!! at this point I honestly don’t know if I am going to watch this show regularly but I definitely don’t want to miss a single performance, it looks so nice 💖

oh, the people in the audience look like people now instead of weird homogenous figures.

so they do have auras! Hana’s is the ribbon, and Q-pit’s is the piano keys and picture frames. it’s weird they left them out of the game, then.

Hana’s and Q-pit’s voices are... fine. I like them about the same. wish it was the Meisa version instead

this appeal... I miss seeing brand-specific details in them, now they’re apparently all identical. it’s super weird that the idol doesn’t participate in it at all, too. oh, it made Hana’s aura level up a bit, interesting

...but they don’t have to change clothes at all (*꒦ິ⌓꒦ີ) why are we forced to do it 3 times in the game... I wanna wear the same coord the whole time

frankly, it pisses me off that Mao’s beating the #2 idol from the very first episode. there’s nowhere left for her to go and no reason for the show to continue, really. people have argued that aikatsu MCs are overpowered in the past, but none of them have anything on this... I will say that I like how Hana only beat Q-pit in dressia points, while Q-pit won in performance and audience enjoyment, but for it to have been enough of an advantage to beat her... it’s sure not the aikatsu I know! for the record, using a stronger coord isn’t enough to win in the game if your opponent beats you in the rhythm part.

of the 3 idols so far Ann has the most jarring voice to come out of an anime character.

Q-pit is bothered by the ‘-san’ and fairy type but the fact that Hana’s voice is totally different doesn’t phase her at all

also pretty interesting that type advantages are a thing in the anime!! they are in the game (it’s not stated outright, but there’s obvious patterns in the skills) so I was wondering if it would carry over. it really is just pripokemonpara, then. how original of them

shoutout to this girl in the final frame who’s waving madly at the camera!!

so, in summary... 1) in terms of make it or break it, the typical j-drama acting definitely breaks it for me! 2) but I love the animation and cgi so much 3) so it’s a shame that there was absolutely no conflict in the ep! in terms of plot conflict, that is. I don’t mean Hana has to suffer or anything stupid like that. but the fact that even Aurora Pegasus immediately agreed to give her a PR and that thanks to that she was able to win her very first competition in a thing she’s never done before... I was pretty disappointed in how wholly uncompelling the plot was and how little it made me want to root for Mao, even with my expectations as low as they were. at least if it were anime I could turn off my brain and enjoy the pretty animation, but I can’t...

I’m going to tune in for a few more eps but if it continues in this same vein then I can see myself dropping the show. (if you told me a year ago that I’d be thinking of dropping aikatsu..... depressing.) but like I said I’m absolutely going to keep up with the performances regardless!! (and ofc the game too.)

and again, take all of this with a grain of salt! if you love the change to live action, fantastic! if you think everything I said was the worst possible opinion, I’m glad! please love aikatsu for the rest of your life! spend money on it! aikatsu is dead! long live aikatsu!!

[winetae]

⇾ what you did last summer (m).

⇁ female reader x yoongi

⇁ smut, trophy wife!au

⇁ slowburn, dom!yoongi, age difference, consensual non-monogamy, power imbalance, semi-public sex, objectification, face-fucking, derogatory language and possessive behavior during sex, creampie, cum marking, unsafe sex, everyone is kind of slutty, not as wildt as warnings may imply 

⇁ unnecessarily long for a pwp. 33.8k. phew.

. . .

Yoongi was fine with a lot of things—you maxing out his credit cards to buy ridiculously expensive items of clothing that you never wore more than once, you taking out his newest ride for a spin without permission, you spending an extra thirty minutes on your hair and makeup when he was running late for a dinner function. 

What he was not okay with, however, was you sharing your pussy with barely-out-of-college boys who were incapable of going five seconds without creaming their pants.

No, that was where he drew the line.

↳ alternatively titled; How to Get Dick - an autobiography written by (you) 

author’s note | while this fic does contain a semblance of plot, the focus is more on characterization which i understand can make for a boring read. also note that i have done (0) research and despite having owned a pool, still to this day do not know how to clean one. 

written for 1 of my closest friends @tayegi as the most belated bday gift to have ever been gifted. ily :( ty for having passionate naruto-related discussions w/ me at 6am. u r the real deal ! 

(!) pls read the warnings. uncomfortable subject matter if delved in too deeply. tbh i didn’t know how to tag. also yoongi is older in this fic - an age gap is there and implied although none of the characters’ ages are specified. 

song inspo: needy - ariana grande. that’s all! enjoy! hopefully! /cries

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{THURSDAY. 10:23 am.}

.

“Hi, um, I’m Jungkook.”

The man shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling all sorts of self-conscious.

In stark contrast to his casual appearance, you looked neatly put together, not a strand of hair out of place. His well worn jeans and simple white tee looked terribly shabby in comparison to the tailored cream colored dress that hugged your figure. Jungkook didn’t need to check the original price tag or the label stitched onto the fabric to know that your outfit was Expensive (with a capital E for emphasis).

Doubt made his stomach turn. Had there been a dress code stated somewhere in the job description? Given Jungkook’s disposition, it didn’t seem very likely that he had overlooked such a crucial detail. He was the type to obsess over the smallest details, always double-checking everything before giving the go ahead.

Yet despite all of the precautions he was certain he had taken, Jungkook was unable to shake off the feeling of being disgustingly underdressed.

Worry bubbled in the pit of his stomach. His palms began to sweat as his gaze flitted back and forth between the pale pink freshwater pearls hanging off your neck and the clothes he had haphazardly thrown on this morning.

Well at least they were ironed, he mused. It was but a small consolation—the denim was faded from one wash too many and the frayed holes near his kneecaps made his jeans look tattered. Had he known the neighborhood would be this posh, he would have chosen his outfit with greater care. Right now he regretted not putting in more effort, if only to blend in with his surroundings. As he was now, he looked distinctly out of place. Almost as ridiculous as Samsung’s CEO taking a leisurely stroll through the downtown dollar store.

Jungkook half-expected you to take one glance at him, upturn your nose and slam the polished oak door in his face. In his panicked state, a number of embarrassing scenarios reeled through his mind, each one filling him with nauseating dread.

It was your expectant expression that snapped him out of his daze. He slowly blinked back into focus, realizing he had paused for a few seconds too long, and he cleared his throat.

A smile stretched across his face, not quite of the genuine kind. He squared his shoulders for good measure, doing his best to conceal the stress shaking up his insides.

“My name is Jeon Jungkook. I spoke to Mr. Min on the phone yesterday. I was expected to arrive at ten thirty?” His voice rose a little at the end, uncertain. It hadn’t been meant to be phrased as a question but his nerves made his voice quiver.

“Ah, yes, of course. And right on time, too.” Jungkook had made sure of it; he despised running late. “Nice to meet you, I’m ______,” you greeted, voice as smooth as velvet.

He tried not to openly stare because wow. Your blinding smile looked straight out of a Colgate advertisement, a tad too white to be completely natural.

Once again, you had him feeling self-conscious and all too aware of his own, less than perfect appearance. Whether it was the anxiety or the scorching heat beating down his back—or an unpleasant mix of both—a film of perspiration formed over his skin, leaving him sticky and uncomfortable.

Jungkook discreetly wiped off his palms against his denim clad thighs before taking your outstretched hand in his.

Despite your small size, your grip was surprisingly firm. If you noticed how abnormally clammy his hand was, you refrained from commentary. Instead, you held the door open a bit wider and ushered him inside the imposing abode.

“You can follow me. I’ll show you around to the back.”

He gave a little jerky nod and let you take the lead. For a moment, all he could hear was the nervous beat of his heart and the steady click-clack of your heels against the immaculate white floor tiles.

Jungkook blushed, quickly turning his head the moment he caught himself staring at your swaying hips. He wet his lips, his eyes darting around for any kind of distraction.

Inwardly, he scolded himself as he pinched the bit of flesh between his thumb and index finger.

Workplace crushes were never a good idea. Wasn’t it, like, written down in the code of conduct or something? It didn’t even have to be a rule. It was just common sense.

And Jungkook had no plans to fuck this job up. Summer jobs that paid this kind of money were scarce and hard to find. For someone like him who needed the money desperately, this job was a godsend, one that he would never dare pass up.

From the moment he had set foot onto Mr. Min’s property, Jungkook had realized that this wouldn’t be anything like his other part-time jobs that had consisted of repainting his neighbor’s fence and watering Mrs. Anderson’s flowers whenever she left town to visit her son. But this? This wouldn’t be just another pool cleaning job, that was for sure.

For one, the mansion, like every house in the vicinity, reeked of money. In his eyes, they all seemed to be competing against each other, with ridiculous, Disneyland-esque shaped hedges and wide, winding driveways capable of fitting several imported cars at a time. On the drive over, Jungkook had even spotted a marble fountain planted in the middle of someone’s front yard, clear water spouting out of a cupid’s arrow. He half expected peacocks and other exotic animals to parade across their lawns like some kind of zoo.

He could only assume that most of these ostentatious properties were owned by business tycoons or AAA-list celebrities. He cast a glance around as he tried to guess which of the two categories his employer belonged to.

To his dismay, there was nothing that particularly stood out to him. In all honesty it was…a little underwhelming. Jungkook had been expecting something jaw dropping in its obnoxiousness but he could spot no cupid fountains or gigantic aquariums built in the wall or pet tigers in gilded cages.

Mr. Min, whoever he was, seemed to favor subtlety. There were no life-sized cutouts of his person, no trophy collection showing off his achievements. The walls were painted an off-white, only decorated by the occasional painting. There were no family portraits, no personal belongings indicating that a person actually lived and breathed in this house. If he hadn’t known beforehand, Jungkook would have believed himself to be in some fancy hotel, not a home.

But the lack of personal ornaments did nothing to quell Jungkook’s growing curiosity. Questions whizzed through his brain. Was his employer a successful plastic surgeon? The living space somewhat reminded him of his dentist’s waiting room. Very clinical and clean. Then again, there was really no telling who he was working for. Maybe they were one of those Wolf of Wall Street stock brokers that owned dozens of unused vacation homes. Or, perhaps, Mr. Min happened to be one of those top-of-the-food-chain entertainment producers… His name did sound awfully familiar for some reason he couldn’t—

Jungkook hadn’t even realized his footsteps had slowed down, too caught up in his thoughts.

“You enjoy art?” The sound of your voice roused him from his ruminations. He jumped, head snapping in your direction so fast his neck throbbed.

Your head was tilted in what seemed to be—interest? The angle drew attention to the slope of your neck and for a few short seconds, Jungkook freaked out, wondering if it was normal to find the delicate curve of someone’s neck attractive. Was that too weird? Luckily he hadn’t been outright staring but he could still feel the tips of his ears heat up in embarrassment.

A beat passed as he finally registered your question. Did he like—? Oh. Somewhat belatedly, he realized that you had been talking about the work of art hung up on the far right wall. He must have been staring at it earlier without noticing. Was it a painting? A sculpture? He scratched his neck, not really knowing how to identify it. He couldn’t tell what it was supposed to represent, either, no matter how long he examined it.

“Not particularly... I mean,” he quickly backtracked, suddenly worried this was some kind of test. “I like it, I just don’t know much about it.”

It was easier to settle for honesty. Lying had never been his strongest suit. Besides, as much as he’d like to impress you, he had no actual knowledge to show off. And he’d rather be ignorant than a liar. Knowledge—well, he could always catch up on and learn what he didn’t know. Trust, however, was hard to earn back when lost.

“I find certain pieces nice to look at but my appreciation for art is rather superficial.”

Although you covered it well, he could tell you were slightly put off by his answer, almost as if you had been expecting something else. Jungkook worried his bottom lip, nervous he had said the wrong thing.

“I see...” Your eyes slid over to the artwork. “Beauty is subjective, isn’t it? Art is supposed to adhere to those rules, too. Some people will find this pretty, some won’t. And yet... It’s not that simple, either. Who assigns value to a piece? The artist or the consumer? I wonder about that sometimes.”

Jungkook nodded, unsure what else to say. You didn’t seem to mind the lack of commentary, continuing on, “I think about it a lot, actually. How do you define someone’s worth?”

Your expression shifted into something indecipherable, gaze slightly glassy, mind elsewhere. Remembering yourself, you covered it up with a polite smile.

“That there is a Rudolf Stingel piece, worth just a little over 5 million. It’s one of my favorites.”

He covered his shock with a loud cough that sounded more like a choke.

“Five million?” Disbelief colored his tone. Five million. Holy shit. “I-Is Mr. Min an art collector?”

Bitterly, Jungkook thought about how he could spend the rest of his life cleaning pools and never make enough to buy a scrap of metal signed Stingel. Not that he wanted to own one. It was just... The idea of being rich enough to spend millions on junk was—

He swallowed, forcing the feeling down. He tried very hard not to think about how one piece of metal could pay for the entirety of his tuition and then some. If he did, he’d likely spiral into depression. Being a broke college student sucked.

“You could say that...”

You shrugged, half smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It wasn’t like the blinding, 100-watt beam you had flashed his way the moment the front door had swung open. This version was less overwhelming, but certainly no less potent. The slow curl of your lips made it easier to admire the defined features of your face. Jungkook swallowed.

Beauty was subjective? Maybe so. Jungkook had no taste for the two-dimensional. He wouldn’t be able to discern a Monet from a Picasso if asked. But something about you had him inclined to change his mind. 

Jungkook had seen beautiful women parade before him—but none like you. Your beauty was eerie—pretty in an almost unnatural way. You looked like a painting brought to life. There was something soft and sharp about your traits, like the definition of a marble statue and the roundness of a paintbrush stroking a canvas all in one. 

“—He does buy a lot of it.”

“I see...” If Mr. Min had objects worth 5 million casually displayed in plain sight, he had to be the type of individual Jungkook would never cross paths with in his everyday life. They belonged to two different worlds, their orbits never meant to cross paths.

“Come on.” You smiled kindly, yanking him out of his stupor. “I still have to show you the pool.”

Dutifully, he followed after you, his steps measured and careful. Now was not the time to go breaking million dollar vases from the Qing dynasty or whatever other valuable pieces Mr. Min had acquired over the years. He sure as hell didn’t have five million in his bank account around to spend on damages. The mere possibility of getting fired on the first day, 5 million in debt, made his skin crawl unpleasantly. He shuddered.

“It’s a bit cold in here,” you apologized once you noticed him rubbing his arms. Goosebumps had raised on his skin. “Should I turn the AC off?”

“I’m fine! Really. Please don’t worry. I’ll be working outside, anyway. Unless… Is it, uh, an indoor pool?” He hadn’t considered that a possibility until now. Maybe there were even multiple pools to clean.

“No, no, the pool’s outside.” You continued your explanation as you led him through the conservatory. The glass ceiling allowed for natural sunlight to filter through, enhancing the aesthetic appeal of the room. Out of all the rooms he had walked through so far, this one seemed like the most inviting.  “You can see it from here. See? Just through here. There’s no justifiable need for an indoor pool since the one we have is heated.”

Jungkook picked up on the strange use of pronoun—we—but didn’t question it. His thoughts were all jumbled up, anxiety making him unable to focus on one topic for too long. “Although, I suppose you could say there isn’t much need for this one, either. It rarely gets used… Honestly, I can’t remember the last time Yoongi went for a swim. It’s almost a waste.”

It took him several seconds for him to realize you were referring to Mr. Min. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered how long you had worked under Mr. Min to be able to address him by his first name. Or maybe his boss was lax about these kind of things? Jungkook somehow doubted it. The man he had on the phone last night hadn’t given off that impression at all.

“Is Mr. Min not home often?” he asked tentatively, hoping his interest wasn’t blatant. Jungkook wasn’t sure if his questions were appropriate or not but thankfully you didn’t seem to mind his curiosity. “Will I meet him today?”

“He should be stopping by later for lunch...” Your voice trailed off before you remembered his first question. “But, no. He spends most of his time locked up in his office, so I doubt you’ll see him very often.”

You said this as you turned your face away. Eyes downcast, you failed to notice when Jungkook caught your grimace from the glass door’s reflection. Jungkook diverted his gaze, somehow feeling like he had seen something he shouldn’t have.

“Ah, here we are.” You slid the glass door open and a gust of warm air blew in his face.

Jungkook stepped out onto the deck, one of his hands raised to block his view from the sun. The garden was in full bloom, a colorful arrangement of hydrangeas, astilbe and daylilies lining the stone pathway that wound down to the gazebo and the pool. A thick, sweet scent hung heavy in the air, so strong it made his nose twitch.

He followed you down the patio, watching in fascination as you walked atop of uneven stone steps with expertise despite the thinness and tallness of your heels.

“I’ll have to get another key double made for the shed, I forgot to get another one done. We keep all the cleaning equipment in here. Next time you come, you can come straight back here after someone’s buzzed you in.”

Jungkook nodded as you showed him where to check the water circulation.

“Do you have any questions? Hm, I think I covered everything. Although I’m sure there’ll be things I’ll need to tell you along the way because I tend to be forgetful.”

It occurred to him that he didn’t know what kind of job you occupied. The question balanced on the tip of his tongue. Would it be considered rude to ask? He swallowed it back down after failing to muster the courage to ask.

“Hm?” You made an inquisitive sound, head tilting slightly. “What is it? You can ask me anything.”

“So, uh, have you worked here long? Do you like it here?”

“Worked here…? Oh. Oh!” Your look of surprise morphed into one of amusement. The corners of your mouth pressed down together in an effort to hold back a laugh.

Jungkook grew uneasy. Somehow, without needing an explanation, he knew he had said the wrong thing.

“I don’t work here. Well. I suppose being a housewife is an occupation in itself, so I guess… Almost a year?” You fiddled with the ring on your index finger, the encrusted diamonds sparkling as the facets reflected the sunlight. “It’s our anniversary on the twentieth. So, yeah, almost a year.”

Jungkook stared at it without comprehending. It was like every cog in his brain had screeched to an abrupt halt.

“Housewife…?” Jungkook’s mouth fell open as he put two and two together. His brain had begun to catch up but it was still buffering like some early 2000 computer that was unable to process large amounts of information without crashing. “You’re—but you’re so young—? Not that that’s a reason for—I thought, I mean, I shouldn’t have—”

Stop talking. Stop. Talking.

“Sorry. For, you know. Assuming. It was wrong of me. Um.” He knew he should stop talking. He knew it and yet— “H-happy anniversary?”

His ears burned with mortification. If the ground could split open and swallow him whole, now would be a fantastic time for it to do so. He had always had shit brain-to-mouth filter but this was… Fuck. He wanted to bang his head against a wall but refrained from doing so, not ready to risk losing more brain cells.

You burst out into laughter, your shoulders shaking from the force of it.

“The look on your face,” you snickered, finally pulling yourself together. “I don’t usually get that kind of reaction. People are usually a lot less... Well. It doesn’t really matter what they’re like. They don’t matter.”

Jungkook hastily apologized again, fearing he had vexed you.

God, you probably thought he was the world’s biggest dumbass. He sure felt like one.

In his defense, your marital status hadn’t been a painfully obvious fact. Jungkook hadn’t even considered the possibility that Mr. Min was a married man. The house he had walked through earlier had lacked convivial warmth, giving the impression of vacancy. There were no wedding pictures framed on the mantle or any other piece of evidence of a lover.

Perhaps it was the age that had further thrown him off—you couldn’t be that much older than him. Maybe two years older? Five, at the most? The deep voice he had heard over the phone last night had given off the impression that Mr. Min was eons older. In Jungkook’s mind, he pictured a man with a balding head, fine lines near his eyes. Maybe Jungkook had been completely off from the start. But then again, Mr. Min couldn’t possibly be that young, either.

He did some quick mental math, trying to calculate and estimate how young Mr. Min could be. Sure, he had seen movies depicting extremely young and successful CEO’s but the real world worked differently. Mr. Min had to be in his thirties…at the earliest.

“Don’t worry about it.” You waved his concerns away with a flick of your wrist. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Trust me…I’m really good at knowing when someone’s being intentionally insulting.”

The last part was said carelessly, like the words hadn’t actually meant to be voiced aloud. His brows scrunched up in confusion; try as he might, he didn’t understand what you meant.

“I’m really sorry,” he squeaked out, his ears still uncomfortably hot. He wiped his brow with the back of hand. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not something that bothers me.”

Jungkook only allowed himself to relax when he caught sight of the easygoing smile gracing your lips. “Well then, I think I covered about everything. If you don’t have anything else you need explained, I’ll let you at it. Why don’t I head on inside and get you some refreshments? It’s so hot out today—I wouldn’t want you to get a heatstroke.”

“That’ll be great.” Jungkook nodded in thanks. Now that you mentioned it, his mouth felt unbearably parched. He made a mental note to bring a water bottle for next time.

“Want anything in particular? I think we have just about everything stocked up in the fridge. Juice, sparkling water, cola...?”

“Water sounds perfect, thank you.”

Jungkook tried not to stare when you turned on your heels and walked away. He really did. Except it was hard not to notice how well the dress you wore flattered your figure, emphasizing the curves of your body in all the right places.

It was a futile battle; his eyes refused to cooperate with his internal demands. Honest to God, he tried really hard not to look but your legs looked fa—

He shook his head as if the action would somehow help him clear his thoughts. Get a fucking grip! his inner voice of reason yelled at him.

You were married.

To his boss.

He let that sink in. Or tried to. Jungkook didn’t need to have an IQ of 155 to know that having the hots for the woman married to his boss would ultimately result in disaster. Nothing good would ever come out of it. Why would you even consider looking at other men? Only a dumbass would think he stood a chance. Your husband probably provided everything you needed and more.

But what should have been sufficient incentive to put an end to his cru—whatever the hell it was—wasn’t doing jack shit. The only resounding thought in his mind right then was a constant loop of I’m so fuuucked. Because if there was one thing Jungkook was good at, it was spotting a losing battle when he saw one. But one thing he was bad at? Abandoning a sinking ship.

.

Back in the kitchen, you were feeling similarly distressed.

The corners of your mouth downturned into a frown as your eyes raked over the familiar penmanship.

Don’t wait up for me tonight.

You peeled the post-it note off the fridge, checking the back of the yellow paper to make sure you hadn’t overlooked any words he might have tacked on as an afterthought. Foolishly, your heart hoped to find any semblance of an apology—anything that would prove that somewhere behind his impassive mask he still loved you.

It was, unsurprisingly, blank.

Admittedly, your husband was a man of few words. He had never been known for flowery speeches, preferring to keep it curt and to the point. Efficiency, he called it.

Realistically, you should have known Yoongi wouldn’t have been able to spend the day with you. More often than not last minute work emergencies called him into office, interrupting whatever plans you had made for that day. This wasn’t outside the norm. Yoongi’s work came first and foremost. You had never deluded yourself into thinking otherwise and had never resented him for it, either.

Still...you remembered a time when he had put in more effort than a half-assed, scribbled note. Before he had tied the knot, Yoongi had been more attentive and thoughtful. There wasn’t a day that you didn’t wake up to the smell of fresh flowers, hand-picked and arranged in a crystal vase by your bedside. He never failed to call during the day between board meetings to check up on you and always made sure to make up for his absences one way or another.

Being with Yoongi came with its set of disclaimers and downsides, but like any worthwhile relationship, you had been willing to overlook these hardships. It wasn’t difficult to, not when Yoongi always showered you with prettily wrapped up gifts and hot mouthed kisses, erasing any doubts that sprouted within you. 

Gradually, all that had changed. There were no more flowers, no more impromptu calls, no more candlelit dinners.

Whatever love that had previously existed was nowhere to be found. The notes he left around the house had become sparse and dismissive. You looked back down at his message and held back a scoff. The paper creased between your fingers and you had half a mind to ball it up and throw it away, along with the frustration simmering under the surface of your skin.

It was impossible to pinpoint the exact moment change had happened but somewhere down the line, the affection that used to gleam in his eyes had melted away, leaving behind a stony face devoid of warmth. You could imagine his face as he had written the note, features smoothed over into the same inscrutable look he reserved for his business clients.

“Guess it’s just going to be me and Euna today.” You glanced at your watch, the steel heavy around your delicate wrist, and desperately attempted to refocus your attention.

Your stomach twisted unpleasantly but you forced the nauseating feeling down with a forced out sigh. 

Everything was fine. Besides, life went on and it wouldn’t wait for you to get your feelings under wraps.

You had been looking forward to having brunch with your sister and husband, but. Things happened. It was nothing to be upset about. You’d get over it after stuffing your face with a croissant or two.

When you came back with refreshments, Jungkook could tell something was wrong. He could see it by the hunch in your shoulders, the straight line of your mouth.

“Change of plans.” You set the sterling silver tray down with a thunk. The glass pitcher’s content sloshed around, threatening to spill over. He noticed there were bits of cut up—cucumbers?—floating around in the water. Weird. He wondered if it was considered rude to pick them out.

When he looked back at you, all of his inner ramblings ceased. Even though he didn’t know you well—or at all, really—worry still niggled at his heart. He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened in the last ten minutes, but the look on your face was cause for concern. He just...didn’t know if it was his place to ask.

You took a glance at your wristwatch unaware of his silent predicament.

“You’ll get to meet Yoongi some other time, hopefully. I thought I might get to introduce the two of you today when he stopped by for lunch, but it’s work related business and you know how that is.”

Jungkook nodded, knowing better than to speak. You smiled and shrugged, but he could detect an undercurrent of frustration. The smile looked different than the one you had on when you had doubled over in laughter—this one was a little strained at the corners, too wide to be completely genuine.

“Sorry to leave you here like this. I know it’s your first day.” You breathed out a sigh, shoulders drooping. “But I’m meeting my sister soon and I don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

“’s cool. I’ve cleaned pools before, I should be able to handle myself fine.”

“Oh, and if you want a refill, just head on inside and ask June. She’ll get you whatever you like. She’s cleaning the upper floor right now, but she’ll be in the kitchen later. She’s a real gem, I bet you’ll like her.”

“Thanks—for this and everything else.” Jungkook’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he sent you a smile. “I’ll look forward to meeting your husband some other time.”

“It will be his pleasure,” you said, not realizing how spot on your statement would turn out to be.

.

.

In hindsight, maybe you should’ve cancelled your outing altogether and stayed home—if only to spare you from the embarrassment brought on by your sister’s sudden exclamation.

“What do you mean he doesn’t want to have sex?!” Euna’s voice rose in incredulity.

It was louder than what etiquette dictated as appropriate, and you had to hide your flinch behind a strained smile. You felt eyes bore into you from all sides as people swiveled around to stare in your direction.

An elderly lady dressed head to toe in Chanel tweed snickered into her napkin after giving you a once-over.

“Will you. Keep. It. Down.” You reclined back on your chair, your shoulders hunching in on themselves defensively. “We’re in public, Euna. So if you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if everyone here wasn’t up to date with my sad and pitiful sex life, because that’s really the last thing I need right now, thanks.”

“Oh no.” Euna dabbed the sides of her mouth with a napkin, deathly serious. “We’re talking about this now. I know you. You haven’t told anyone else about this. Not that I blame you, honestly. Your friends are all attention craving socialites. And it’s not like you’d ever go tell Mom about this. Not when she’s expecting you to pop a baby out soon. She’d probably find a way to lock you and Yoongi up in some room until you conceive her first grandkid.”

“Can we not talk about babies right now? Or Mom.” You repressed a shudder because fuck. That was another problem altogether—one that you were not equipped to handle at this very moment.

“Fine,” she agreed easily. “Talk to me about your dick problems instead, then.”

“What do you want me to say?”

Your attempt at nonchalance was weak at best. In front of you, the porcelain plate, stacked high with delicious French and Danish pastries, remained practically untouched. Usually by now half of them would have been devoured, down to the very last crumb. If that wasn’t an indicator that something was wrong then what was?

“There’s literally nothing to talk about. We haven’t had sex in weeks. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Weeks?!” Her glossy lips parted in shock. The emphasis on the plural form made you wince. As if you needed the reminder. “What the fuck.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” you said glumly, allowing a frown to draw on your features. As much as you liked to pretend you were fine with your husband’s increasingly distant behavior, it was impossible to keep up the pretense in front of your sister. She had a way of extracting the truth from you—even if it was a truth you were reluctant to face.

“Do you think... Um.” There was a slight pause as Euna gathered her thoughts, still trying to get over the shock of your confession. She lowered her voice to a whisper, perhaps finally realizing that the couple seated next to you were doing a piss poor job at eavesdropping. “D’you think he might be...cheating on you?”

Your rebuttal came out immediately, without a single trace of hesitation, “No way.”

“Are you sure?”

Your hardened expression did nothing to deter her from pressing the issue. “I mean, it’s not too far-fetched to imagine him having a sizzling office romance with a coworker. Or maybe there’s a rival executive he could be sticking his dick in to seal a—”

“No. Yoongi’s not. He’s not like that.” You shook your head, trying to clear your vision from the offensive images her words had conjured up. “He’s just been busy and stressed with work, that’s all. There’s a big merger happening soon and there are still a lot of things under negotiation right now so he has a lot going on.”

“Well what about a blowjob? No? Not even an under the desk handjob?”

Her Alexander Wang silk blouse wrinkled under her crossed her arms. The look of betrayal painted on her face made it seem like you had offended her on a personal level. Honestly you weren’t sure why she was getting so worked up over this. It wasn’t her dick getting neglected. “Look, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had a guy refuse a good ol’ dick sucking.”

“Well good for you.” Your voice lacked sincerity, dry as the desert.

“And I’m 90% sure all the pent up cum that accumulated in his balls is the reason Yoongi’s acting like such a grade ass prick.”

“Read that in Science Weekly, did you?”

“As a matter of fact,” Euna narrowed her eyes at your tone. “Doctors say that blowing your load on the regular is the secret to a long and prosperous life.”

“The ‘expert’ opinion in Cosmo isn’t considered medical backup.”

“Well are they wrong? If you got dicked down more often I bet you wouldn’t be so fucking snappy all the time. Frowning like that is only going to give you premature wrinkles. And that’s a fact.”

“Why do you have to make it a matter of dick or death. Jesus, it’s not that dramatic. I bet all couples go through these dry spells every once in awhile. It can’t be that uncommon.”

“It is! Keeping your vagina happy, keeps you happy. As an extension of—”

“Would it kill you to be serious for a second?”

She huffed, feeling wrongfully rebuked. “It’s your sex life is on the line, not mine.”

That sobered you up a lot more quickly than you would ever like to admit. “I’m well aware...” You pursed your lips into a pout. “Look, it’s not that he doesn’t want sex with me. He just doesn’t have time for it. Because of work. I’m sure everything will go back to normal in a few weeks.”

“In a few weeks? Uh...” Euna trailed off. “Can you even hold off that long?”

“Ha, your faith in me is astounding. I’ll have you know that I’m perfectly capable of going without sex for a month. Or two. I’m sure it won’t kill me... It’s not, like, the end of the world or anything.”

Euna’s raised brows made it clear that she didn’t believe you for one second. “Wasn’t the last time you abstained from sex for more than a month in—” She stopped, deep in thought. “When was the last time you took a break from sex? You have the sex drive of a rabbit.”

“That’s not important,” you snapped, stabbing your fork into a cheese tart. The rich, creamy texture melted on your tongue as soon as you bit into it, but for some reason your favorite dessert tasted like ash in your mouth. “I know you’re trying to help, but sex isn’t the magical solution to everything. It won’t fix anything. Not that anything needs fixing, I’m just saying.”

Sensing that the conversation was drawing to a close, Euna scooted backwards in her chair and stretched her arms. “Mhm, okay, if you say so. Good luck with all that... I sure wouldn’t want to be in your place, that’s for sure.”

That made two of you. 

“Thanks,” you sighed. “Just. Whatever, it’s okay, I’m fine. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Uh-huh. Well if things ever start to become...not okay...you can always—”

“I said everything’s fine,” you cut off sharply, effectively putting the conversation to rest. Your appetite lost, you set your fork down.

Regrettably, Euna’s words rattled you more than you cared to admit. You couldn’t shake off her warnings and advice no matter how much you tried to. Throughout the day, you found your thoughts wandering back to the conversation with your sister. Could she be right? The longer you let yourself ponder the issue, the more your doubts grew.

Despite your best efforts, you had no way of stopping these poisonous thoughts from plaguing your mind. No one was around to help you get rid of them and without an outlet, they grew and grew, culminating into an unbearable ache. 

You hated the feeling of loneliness—of being alone and helpless, with nothing but your own thoughts to entertain you. You wished Yoongi would hurry up and come back home so that you could find refuge in his embrace. The bed was too big for just you alone and you hated seeing how empty it was without Yoongi snuggled up next to you. It was always during the time before sleep claimed you that his absence was the most painful to swallow. The overwhelming feeling of loneliness kept you awake for hours. Sometimes, no matter how exhausted you were, your body refused to cooperate unless it knew Yoongi was laying down at your side.

It was with no surprise that you found yourself all alone in the king sized bed that night, Yoongi’s side untouched and unoccupied. Your fingers reached out to where his sleeping figure should have been. Instead of a warm body, you grasped a handful of air. The only reminder that he slept next to you was the faint trace of his aftershave that clung stubbornly to the sheets. You tried not to sigh out in disappointment. You had been doing too much of that lately.

Turning over, you checked your phone for any message notifications despite already knowing that you wouldn’t find what you were waiting for. You curled up in a ball, feeling colder than you had been a few moments ago. Ordinarily, you’d try to stay up and wait for his return, but the day had been so emotionally draining that you slipped into a dreamless sleep the second your eyelids drooped to a close.

.

{SATURDAY. 11.18 am}

.

Despite the unlimited number of TV channels provided, none of the current programs had been interesting enough to capture your attention for longer than a few seconds. Your focus had drifted from the flat screen a long time ago. An infomercial on a 10 speed juice blender buzzed on in the background, but you paid it no heed.

Summer was supposed to be synonymous to leisure and fun. Yet here you were, splayed across the living room’s couch with no tangible vacation plans.

The worst part was that you were alone, with no one to distract you from how utterly and entirely boring your existence had become.

Not that you’d ever confide these innermost feelings to anyone in your entourage. You could already hear your mother’s condescending tone ring through your ears, chastising you for not living your life to the fullest (i.e. spending all of your husband’s hard earned money on luxurious vacation trips to St. Barts or wherever). And sure, trips to St. Barts and St. Tropez were fun—but they weren’t what you wanted. There was no point of going so far overseas when the person you wanted to spend time with was stuck back home. At least here you could see Yoongi from time to time, even if those times were becoming a rarity.

Your friends wouldn’t understand. They had no qualms jetting off every weekend to their private resorts and eating out of season, imported delicacies plated on shining, sterling silver dishes.

Speaking of friends, you flicked through their Instagram accounts, envy stirring in your lower belly as you swiped through their recent pictures, each snapshot showing off lavish hotel rooms equipped with balconies overlooking exotic landscapes and modern skylines. But the designer handbags dangling off their arms weren’t what made you froth at the mouth—you had enough of those lining up your walk-in closet.

No, what you envied the most was how fucking happy they seemed in every single shot. Pic after pic, their whitened smiles never waned.

You blew out a sigh, the heavy sound drowned out by television static.

God. What were you even doing with your life? Was this what you had to look forward to for the next twenty years? Would you and Yoongi even last until then?

This wasn’t how you had imagined your life would turn out when you accepted Min Yoongi’s proposal a year ago.

The honeymoon phase was long over. Even in your company, his attention never strayed too far from his work phone. And that was when he was home. Over the course of the past few months, he had reverted back to the workaholic man his friends and family had always known him to be, leaving behind no trace of the person you had become so taken with.

Working for his attention had always been a challenge. That was what had initially drawn you to him. Out of all the possible suitors lined up for a taste of you, only Min Yoongi’s detachment and feigned disinterest had stood out from the lot. There was something exciting about it, something that kept you on your toes, as opposed to the throng of other candidates that would easily bend to your will. His handsome looks had just been an added bonus.

But somewhere along the way, there had been a shift, too minute to notice on the spot. Now, when Yoongi brushed you off, there was no gleam twinkling in his eyes, no smirk on his lips. It didn’t matter if you wrapped your body up in lace and the finest satin, or stayed up until the early hours of the morning for him to return home—he always asked for a rain check, claiming fatigue.

Eventually, you had stopped trying so hard. There were only so many times you could handle being pushed away again and again before it started to hurt.

As much as you had enjoyed earning the praise and attention in the past, you didn’t like...whatever this had become. It wasn’t a game with rules and limits anymore. When Yoongi pushed you off of him, he meant it. So as much as you appreciated a man who was hardworking and dedicated to his job, you couldn’t help but crave the attention he had stopped giving you. 

The pressure weighing down on your chest increased, making it hard to breathe. Invisible hands had wrapped themselves around your lungs and squeezed hard, leaving no room for air. For an interminable moment, you felt like you were drowning, the sound of your heartbeat drumming in your ears.

When you blinked and swallowed, the feeling had disappeared, leaving you feeling hollow, like someone had dug out your heart with a chisel.

It took a while, but you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and finally made up your mind.

What you needed was a distraction, something to keep your hands and mind busy. You couldn’t stay put like this, trapped in your own thoughts and feelings. If you did, you’d surely go mad.

...The only problem was that there weren’t that many distractions available. You could go out on your own into the city to shop or eat but you dismissed the thought as soon as it had a chance to take form. Your closet was already full to the brim with clothes you hadn’t yet found the chance to wear.

As if she had somehow telepathically perceived your difficulties, June, your housekeeper, materialized into the living room, holding a laundry basket against her hip. Quickly, you gathered to your feet, excited by the prospect of finally finding something to do.

She jumped up in surprise, a high-pitched squeal leaving her throat, not expecting to see you appear in front of her with no prior warning. A strand of her curly hair escaped her wound-up bun but she deftly pinned it back in place after readjusting her hold on the laundry basket.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you asked eagerly.

“Sorry? I don’t quite understand...” 

“Like... I don’t know... Maybe some dishes to clean or socks to fold up...” 

“You want to clean dishes?” she echoed, looking at you as if you had suddenly sprouted a second pair of limbs. 

You tried not to take offense and pursed your lips.

“Yes,” you confirmed with a firm nod of your head. “Any tasks that you might need help with.”

“Are you feeling okay ma’am?” she queried instead, the lines on her forehead expressing genuine worry. “Do you need to lay down? Should I get water? The heat might be—”

“I’m fine! I just.” You wrung your hands in agitation. Why the hell was this so complicated? Since when did cleaning require justification? “I need something to do. I’m so bored I feel like I’m losing it.”

“Ah. I see...” She looked unconvinced by your words but knew better than to voice her concerns. “Alright. In that case you can do the—ah. Hmm. Why don’t you prepare some cold drinks for the pool boy? The weather must be giving him a hard time.”

“That’s it? You don’t need any help with the cleaning? You had the feeling that she didn’t entrust you with the more ‘serious’ household chores because she was worried you’d inadvertently blowup appliances or flood the laundry room again.

(It had happened once. Forever ago. Wasn’t it time to let it go? How were you supposed to know that you needed to measure the detergent before dumping it in?)

“... Maybe later. I’ll be sure to let you know if I need additional assistance, but thank you for offering.” She shot you a professional smile, putting an end to the discussion.

You trudged back to the kitchen, dragging your faux fur slippers across the floor in defeat.

It wasn’t what you had hoped for, but at least you had something to occupy the time with. Knowing that this was your only distraction, you planned on prolonging this task for as long as humanly possible.

What should have taken less than a minute to complete had turned into a tedious chore. You cleaned each strawberry by hand, cutting out the stems with unneeded precision, before slicing them into thin, even pieces. You did the same with the mint leaves and mixed it all into a glass pitcher.

Satisfied with the end result, you poured a generous amount of lemonade into the tall glass before storing the rest in the fridge for later. It was hard to keep the drink balanced on the tray as you slid open the glass door, but you somehow managed to not make a mess.

The heat hit you all at once and you frowned, feeling bad for whoever had been sent out today to clean the pool. It was laborious work and the weather did nothing to alleviate the situation. Nobody wanted to work outside in these less than pleasant conditions which was why it had been a pain the ass to find suitable candidates that were up for the job.

You had tried finding solutions around this problem—like raising the pay rate and alternating between different cleaners every couple of days so that the same one wouldn’t be subjected to the grueling heat all week long. You had been surprised to see how many people sent in applications—not that you were complaining. The only one who had something to say, was Mrs. Kim, the widow from across the street, who liked to grumble about how you were stealing all the good ones.

At the time, you hadn’t quite understood what she had been trying to insinuate. Weren’t all pool cleaners the same? But as you approached the pool, tray balanced dangerously on one hand, it all started to make sense.

Time slowed down like it did in those cheesy, over-the-top kdramas that were all the rage amongst housewives. How many times had you seen the same scenario play out whenever the male protagonist appeared on screen for the first time and met eyes with the heroine from across the room?

It was like you had suddenly been thrust into the drama lead’s shoes. Everything else seemed to fade away, your gaze drawn to man in front of you like a moth to a flame. It was impossible not to stare. Some invisible magnetic force kept your eyes fixated on him. The world could have been crumbling around you for all you knew.

His damp clothes clung to his body like a second skin, revealing sinewy muscles worthy of Calvin Klein billboards. Greedily, you drank in his figure, your gaze lingering on the attractive curve of his ass and the outline of his abs visible through the now see-through white shirt.

You gulped audibly, your mouth unpleasantly dry. It was distracting. He was distracting. Only a miracle had kept you from dropping the tray you were holding. 

Eyes closed, the man tipped his head back and brought his right hand up, carding his fingers through his wet locks. Like a magnet, your eyes were immediatley drawn to his bare neck.

You were transfixed. There was no other word or explanation for it. Even if you had been able to, the chance of you peeling your eyes away from the spectacle in front of you was slim to none.

It hadn’t even registered how ridiculous you probably looked, with your feet planted to the ground and your mouth parted in evident awe.

You took a much needed moment to appreciate his profile—your eyes running down the sharp line of his jaw and down the slope of his neck towards his exposed collarbones. Water droplets dripped down his handsome face and in that very moment you swore that he looked like he had stepped out of a high-end underwear advertisement.

He strung a spare towel around his neck before turning his full attention onto you. Instantly, you were struck by how alive his eyes appeared. They glinted with thinly-veiled mischief. That, the fullness of his lips, and the confident smirk he sported, gave him a youthful and playful mien that contrasted with his virile and attractive build.

“Er...” You coughed, politely averting your eyes from his body. “Do you— Do you need me to get you a spare pair of swim trunks? Yours look a little, um, small.”

You winced, knowing it had been the wrong thing to say.

“Oh?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice that had you looking up at him in alarm. His smile widened, the corners of his eyes creasing into crescents. “Please don’t bother. I work better in these.”

“Oh...well... If you’re sure.”

“Certain.”

He licked his lips. His eyes were hooded, heavy lids doing nothing to subdue the sultry look aimed your way.

“Alright.” You swallowed and paused, searching for the appropriate words. In the span of a few short seconds, your brain had short circuited. You got the next few words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Your name would be nice.” An easy smile sat on his lips.

“______.” You included your last name, hoping he’d get the hint. Briefly, you remembered your interaction with one of the other pool boys, Jungkook, and how flustered he had gotten over his mistake. The one standing in front of you couldn’t have been more different.

“Park Jimin. You can call me Jimin.” He glanced down at the platter you gripped onto with both hands. “This for me?”

Light reflected off the metallic surface of the tray and you were reminded of what you had stepped out the house for.

“Yes, please have something to drink. I made it earlier, I hope it’s to your taste.”

“Thanks for thinking of me.” He took the glass of freshly pressed lemonade off the tray, using the opportunity to step closer to you. The sharp scent of chlorine tickled your nose but to your surprise, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “It gets awfully hot out here and I get so thirsty. You know what I mean, right?”

His voice was as sweet as cotton candy. It took a moment for you to realize he had stopped talking and a few seconds more for you to remember how to form words of your own.

“I try to make refreshments available for all the staff. Everyone works really hard, even in this weather, so I’m thankful,” you said, trying to retain a certain air of professionalism. Hopefully it would be enough to stop him from seeing through the bullshit spouting from your mouth.

Jimin jutted out his bottom lip in a pout before raising his glass to his mouth. He took a big gulp, probably all too aware of the way you were tracking the movement with your eyes. In what was probably a calculated and premeditated move, the pink of his tongue darted out to lick the sweetness off his lips. Distantly, you noted how full and rosy his lips were.

“Aw. And here’s to thinking I was special.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh and shook his head. Water droplets fell from his wet fringe, the soaked strands sticking to his forehead. “So what’s a pretty thing like you doing shacked up, hm?”

“What?” The bluntness of his words caught you off guard. You were used to people being coy, hiding their pretenses behind smiles and well-versed pleasantries. Jimin’s forwardness left you momentarily dumbfounded and at a loss for words.

“Gotta admit, when I took up this job I was expecting to land the standard.” Jimin laughed, pleased. “Can’t deny this is a welcome surprise. Nothing wrong with the older crowd, but you’re definitely something else.”

“E-Excuse me?”

“So what’s your story?” His eyes raked over your form. Unabashed, he lingered on the swell of your breasts, the dip at your waist. You blinked, the apples of your cheeks warming as you remembered you hadn’t worn a bra. You hadn’t thought much about your choice of outfit before—it was thin and comfortable enough to wear around the house, the silky material soft against your skin. Jimin seemed to appreciate the selection, too, if the way his eyes darkened in approval was any indication.

He tapped a finger against the pout of his lips in mock contemplation. “Let me guess. Married a geezer who’s too busy banging his hot secretary to look after you. And when he does, you wish he didn’t because his stamina is shit. Can he even get it up? Heard old age does that to you, not that I would know...”

He shrugged, the smile on his lips sympathetic.

“Yoongi isn’t like that,” you denied right away, a frown ruining your expression. You knew that the conversation was most definitely crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed. You kept telling yourself to put an end to it before it could get out of hand.

“No?” Jimin leaned in, close enough for you to feel his hot breath fan across your skin.

You didn’t dare move, let alone breathe. Any closer and your breasts would graze his chest. The shocking part was that you almost wanted it to happen. Not that—not that you wanted it to happen with Jimin, specifically. You just wanted. Your body had been suspended in a constant state of yearning for so long that it didn’t take much to stir its interest.

He stepped back to properly appraise you. A shudder ran down your back as you struggled not to let your emotions show. “You look awfully desperate for someone who should be getting dicked down on the regular.”

You opened your mouth to retort but no sound came out.

The heat in his gaze left you breathless. Yoongi used to look at you the same way, before. You remembered the hunger, the way your body used to warm up and ache and squirm under the power of his gaze. Whenever he looked at you with those eyes, your knees would buckle and you’d fall to your knees without question.

“Trust me,” Jimin continued on, oblivious to the perverse thoughts running through your mind. “If that was my ring on your finger, you’d never leave our bed because you’d be too fucked out to even get up. What’s that husband of yours thinking?”

He shook his head, not expecting a verbal answer from you. When he spoke up, his voice had a dangerous undertone.

“It’s because he’s not satisfying your needs,” he said matter of factly. “If he wasn’t as disappointing in bed as you claimed, there’s no way you’d be out here, panting for my dick down your throat instead of his. Isn’t that right, sweetheart? You need a nice, thick cock to fill you all the way up. And I can give you what you want, you just gotta say the word.”

Were you being that obvious?

You bit back the whimper threatening to claw its way out your throat. His words kindled a desire deep inside of you—a primal desire you had valiantly tried to suppress for the past month. Yet with only a few well chosen sentences, he had coaxed that need back to the surface, putting all your efforts to waste.

Different scenarios and possibilities flashed in front of your eyes like a fast-forwarded montage. You were so caught up in your thoughts, the infinite could if’s, that Jimin’s disappointed sigh had become background noise.

“Too much?”

You blinked up at him owlishly, not fully grasping the situation until he had taken a few steps back. Even as he backed off, the smirk never fully melted off his face which was a little disconcerting.

Thankfully, the newfound space separating both of you made it easier to breathe, to think straight.

With a surprisingly steady voice, you spoke out. “Jimin, I’m married—”

“I know.” Jimin shrugged as if what you had told him was an inconsequential detail.

Nonplussed by Jimin’s behavior, you bit the inside of your cheek.

Shouldn’t this guy have some morals? Usually men backed off at the mention of a husband but Jimin refused to conform to the norm. Based on what he had previously insinuated, he probably had fucked his fair share of married women. So was it all a game to him? A kink? An ego thing? Were you doomed to be just another notch on his belt? You furrowed your brow, trying to figure out the conundrum that was Park Jimin.

He misinterpreted your silence and sighed, an exaggerated pout on his pink lips.

“It was worth a try... The offer still stands, if you ever change your mind.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I’m not going to force myself onto you or anything.” He grimaced at the thought. “But you should know that the option’s there. I wasn’t lying about what I said earlier... You deserve to be with someone who knows what he’s doing... And by the looks of it... He’s not fucking you nearly or well enough to keep you satisfied. I’m more than willing to be of service in any way I can. I promise you won’t be disappointed, I’ve never gotten complaints before.”

He pushed his hair back as his eyes perused your form again, his gaze half-lidded. You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked away. You hated how correct most of his assumptions had been. And what you hated even more was how certain he seemed about it all, like his words were the absolute truth.

Something about that irked you. You hated being read so easily—by a stranger, no less. It was embarrassing, how easily he had assessed your situation and lumped you with the countless other bored housewives he had undoubtedly had his way with.  

“Well, thanks for the offer, but no thanks, I’m good. I’m perfectly fine. I appreciate your concern, but it’s not needed.” Even to your own ears, your speech failed to sound convincing. At this point, you weren’t sure who you were trying to persuade—Jimin or yourself. Either way, you weren’t proving to be very capable; your words rung out false and hollow.

“Enjoy the rest of your drink. I hope it quenches your thirst.”

And with that, you turned your head and scurried back into the sanctity of your house, far away from sin and temptation itself. Heart palpitating, you swore that you felt Jimin’s gaze follow you all the way to the door, clinging to you like a shadow. The look he had given you right before you scampered off was one that you’d spend the rest of the day trying to forget.

Unfortunately for you, time was not a sufficient balm to soothe over the heat Jimin’s words ignited. Long after the sun had set, the utter filth that had spilled from his lips kept running through your mind, keeping you up.

Sleep was impossible to find, not that you were surprised. It was becoming a regular occurrence and you figured that you should go seek a doctor’s help if your condition didn’t improve soon.

But you knew that what you needed were neither pills nor herbal concoctions—your body needed Yoongi. You missed his presence, the way he stroked your cheek after you pulled back from a kiss, the way he kept eye contact when he pushed his thick cock between your legs.

God, you fucking missed that asshole.

You hadn’t always hated how much you depended on your husband. You had wealth of your own—or rather your family had wealth of their own—but all your personal expenses and whims had been funded and provided by Yoongi. All of your possessions had been bought with his money—everything from the imported cars, the luxury bags, the designer goods, and the summer residence in The Hamptons you visited every now and then.

The dependence hadn’t bothered you before. And it still didn’t—not in the way that it might bother or embarrass others, anyway. You never felt like you were in his debt after spending hefty amounts of money; that was not how your relationship worked. 

What made you uneasy was how physically dependent on him you had become. It wasn’t until you had been repeatedly denied from his touch that you realized how much your body craved it, ran on it like how a car needed fuel.

Tonight was the night, you finally decided, determination set in your features.

Reaching into the closet, you pulled out your most recent purchase from La Perla and slipped it on, making sure it still looked as good as it had a week ago in the dressing room mirror. You hadn’t found the right moment to wear it and figured it wouldn’t hurt to put the expensive lingerie to good use.

A nervous energy tingled down your spine as you got ready. Anticipation was building inside your belly but you couldn’t tell if it was the good or bad kind. You were brought back to a time when it had been fun to surprise Yoongi. Those had been the best nights—even the mere memory of them had your thighs squeezing together. Back then, the possibility that he might shut you down hadn’t existed.

Maybe you already knew, deep down, that you were setting yourself up for failure.

It still didn’t stop your chest from constricting painfully around your ribs when Yoongi reacted exactly the way you had feared he might.

“What’s gotten into you?” His face conveyed confusion, his gaze flickering from the lit candles around the room to the way your body was splayed out indecently on the bed, body covered by the barest scraps of frill and lace.

On any other day, the sharpness in his tone would have been enough to cut through your confidence and back off. You would have dropped the subject and moved on. But this time the sting of rejection wasn’t easy to dismiss, repetition only making it worse.  

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you snapped, frustration getting the best of you. You sat up from your position on the bed, not missing the way his gaze dropped down to your exposed chest. To your great disappointment, you couldn’t spot any arousal in his expression. He might as well have been looking at a blank sheet of paper. What had changed? Was it him—or was it you?  

Your sister’s words from a few days ago were creeping back now, reinforcing all the doubts and dejection you had fought so hard to suppress. Why didn’t he want you? Were you not desirable anymore? Had he found someone else to fulfill his primal needs? And if he had, what did that mean for you?

What the hell were you supposed to do with a husband that refused to touch you, let alone talk to you?

A sickly feeling rose up your throat, the acidic taste of bile flooding your mouth.  

“Do you not love me anymore?”

The question was meant as an accusation, the words supposed to carry the weight of all your pent up fury and bitterness. Instead of the harshness you had intended, your voice came out feeble and wrung out. The truth was that you were afraid of his answer and what it would do to you. Yoongi’s words were the only ones capable of breaking through the armor you had built around yourself. You didn’t care for the gossiping housewives or the scummy tabloids. But Yoongi? He had always been different. Important. Yours.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It doesn’t suit you,” he chided none too gently.

“Can you stop that?” In the bedroom, the authority he wielded aroused you to no end. But sometimes, like now, Yoongi’s tone and wording rubbed you the wrong way. Did your feelings not matter anymore? When he spoke like that, it made you feel so small. And not in a good way, not the way you liked to feel like during good sex or when he hugged you, limbs wrapped around yours like your own personal fortress.

You pulled the strings of your robe together, your body turned to ice. The see-through material was lightweight and flimsy, doing nothing to obscure your body from view or keep you warm. 

Why had you tried in the first place? Like Yoongi said, you felt ridiculous.

Pride bruised and battered, you attempted to keep your wobbly voice steady.

“God, you can be so condescending when you want to be. I’m not a plaything you only listen to and take care of when it pleases you. I’m your wife, not some plant you need to water every two weeks, don’t you get that?” You weren’t even angry anymore. All you wanted was for this to be over and for your relationship to go back to the way it was before. You were tired of feeling insecure, tired of waiting and wanting. Just...tired.

Yoongi’s brows furrowed, his mouth opened as if to voice his immediate protest.

“I’m not—” He cut himself off, lips thinning into a frown. The deep line between his brows never smoothed over, as if permanently etched onto his features. He bit the inside of his mouth, taking a moment to choose his next words carefully.

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but he suddenly appeared older, closer to the age written down on his official documents. Genetics had given Yoongi smooth skin and good looks that made him look more youthful than his actual age. But as he stood there in front of you, you could tell that Yoongi’s beauty was marred by evident signs of fatigue and stress. 

“I... I didn’t know I made you feel that way,” he confessed sounding genuinely regretful. “I wasn’t—it wasn’t my intention to. I’m sorry it came off that way. I don’t think of you like that, just so you know.”

The silence that followed his words stretched on for several long seconds.

He didn’t look away from your probing gaze. Even without searching, you knew his words to ring true. He was a bad liar. Good at keeping his feelings locked under key, yes, but never one to outright deceive others. Yoongi had always been bad at expressing affection. He was also bad at reading feelings. He was probably so caught up with his workload that he hadn’t noticed at all.

In retrospect, your outburst had been somewhat unfair. Maybe you were being unreasonable, adding on to his extensive list of worries.

But, no. That didn’t sound quite right, either. Just because he hadn’t been aware that your feelings had been hurt, did not mean that what you felt wasn’t valid. You weren’t selfish for wanting to be happy. You shouldn’t have to feel guilty for wanting to be loved.

“I know,” you said, voice quiet enough to pass as a whisper. 

Yoongi’s sharp eyes softened. The hard lines around his mouth rounded into a small smile.

“Come here.” He walked over to the bed, his legs spreading as he sat down.

The open invitation was one you were powerless to resist. Although you knew the conversation was far from over, you had missed his warmth and his touch far too much to refuse him. Your entire body hummed, itching for the close physical contact that you had been denied for so long.

His thighs flexed as your fingers dug into his silk pajamas for leverage. From this distance, you could see how haggard he truly was. Purple lined the underside of his eyes, making them look swollen and bruised. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his cheekbones more prominent than you remembered them to be. When had he last had a proper meal? You suspected that he hadn’t been taking care of himself, no matter what he tried to make you believe. Whenever he got into that serious headspace of his, nothing else mattered but his work—not food, not sleep, and certainly not you.

Cold hands inching up your back interrupted your train of thought. You had been so touch-deprived that any amount of attention directed your way made your body vibrate with ill-concealed excitement.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been neglecting you. Things right now are...” He exhaled sharply, his shoulders slouching under the weight of his worries. “Work has been keeping me busy, that’s for sure. I’m afraid I can’t do much about that. I promise I’ll make it up to you in a few days, once this blows over and we secure our terms.”

“You’ve been so stressed,” you remarked as your own hands wandered up his arms and shoulders. His lean muscles were unnaturally tense under your touch. It had been so long since you had touched him properly that the planes of his body felt like unfamiliar territory.

When he didn’t move away or show any signs of protest, you leaned in to press your lips against his. The kiss was slow, your mouth melting against his like snow falling on a furnace. 

The silky material of his clothes facilitated the glide of your hands down his chest. But before you could reach any lower, Yoongi grabbed you by the wrists, effectively halting your movements.

“Not tonight,” he whispered roughly against your lips, short of breath. 

“When?” You hated how whiny and petulant the question made you sound, but you couldn’t help it. 

“Shall I pencil in an appointment, then?” he humored. “Would you honestly be happier I gave you a time, place and date?” 

“Not really, but I’ll take it.”

“Is sex really the only thing that matters to you?” he asked, half fond, half exasperated. 

“It’s your fault for marrying a slut. You should’ve known what you were signing up for.”

You shared a smile. For once nothing felt awkward or strained. You tried to cherish the moment while it lasted.

Yoongi’s expression eventually morphed into the apologetic one you had grown accustomed to seeing recently. You tried not to let your stomach sink in disappointment, already anticipating his rejection before he could voice it.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not in the mood. You know I can’t focus when there’s so much going on at work.”

“You won’t even need to do anything!” you tried despite knowing that your chances of convincing him were slim. “I’ll top and do all the work.”

“If that’s the case, can’t you just use a sex toy?" Yoongi rolled his eyes. “What’s my use if I’m just going to lay there and take it like a starfish?”

“Did you think I wasn’t using a sex toy all this time? I have a high sex drive... I wasn’t going to just sit around and not take care of myself.”

“Then what’s the problem? It doesn’t matter how you get your pleasure. I’m not one of those men who get weird over their partners using toys. It won’t be a blow to my pride, or whatever.”

“It’s not enough, okay?! I need your cock filling me up, fucking me into the mattress. Every time I cum on my own, it’s not enough.”

“I said no.” He sighed. “Look, it doesn’t matter to me how you deal with it but I can’t take care of it.”

“Take care of it? Is having sex with me a chore or something? Jesus.” You pushed him away with an annoyed expression. Yoongi’s hands dropped from your waist, not putting up much of a fight when you left the seat of his lap.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he said ever so patiently, almost like he was talking to a child.

You huffed, scooting further away from him. It didn’t escape your notice that he made no effort to close the physical distance separating the two of you, his hands laying limp at his side.

“So you’re saying you don’t care how I get myself off? You wouldn’t say anything? Not even if I went and got myself a real cock to fulfill my needs?”

Yoongi raised his brows, the insinuation taking him by surprise. Clearly he’d underestimated your level of desperation. You watched his face closely, hoping to decipher what was running through his mind. Unfortunately, you couldn’t tell if the tightness in his features hid displeasure or interest.

His lips were drawn into a thin line as he mulled the proposition over. After a moment of silence, he said in an even tone, “Go ahead, if that’s what you want.”

What.

You hadn’t actually expected him to agree. Turn you over and spank you for suggesting something so outrageous. Get angry for pushing an issue he wanted to drop. But not... You didn’t think that he’d actually be okay with it. Did that mean that he had stopped cari—?

Before you had the chance to finish that thought, he continued on, the dark of his pupils pulsing, “You know that I’ll never deny you. Everything you want is yours. That is my promise to you.”

You opened your mouth to contest but he beat you to it. 

“Whether it’s my cock you need, or another’s. So be it—if that’s all it takes for my needy wife to be satisfied.” A slow smirk pulled at the right side of his mouth. When he spoke, it was gruff and laced with arousal. “You can try to find all the substitutes in the world, but you know that the only one capable of giving you the pleasure you crave so deeply is me.”

Ribbons of heat immediately curled in the pit of your stomach. Dimly, you thought how unfair your dynamic with Yoongi was—all he needed to do was snap his fingers and you’d happily spread open your legs for him. You had always been eager to please him, but you had to admit that the time spent away from him hadn’t fixed such matters.

His hand reached out to trace the outline of your lips. You didn’t dare breathe as the touch of his fingertips lingered, the ghost of a promise making your heart jump in anticipation. Your lips parted in silent invitation, giving him permission to ruin you.

He leaned in so that his breath caressed your skin, the gentle whisper carrying a dark undertone.

“So be patient, darling—or I’ll give you nothing.”

Whether this was a promise or a threat, you were left unsure.

.

.

{MONDAY; 11:19 am}

.

This was a bad idea. A Very Bad Idea.

But bad ideas had never been enough to stop you from getting what you wanted in the past. You called it determination. Some people would disagree with the sentiment but when had their opinions mattered?

Two weeks ago, you wouldn’t have considered going through with this. But your last conversation with Yoongi had been the final push you needed.

Your face broke into a scowl as you remembered his parting words. The infuriating part was what had been written all over his face—the haughty certainty that you’d never rise to the challenge he had issued. That was what had ticked you off the most. You hated losing, but you hated being underestimated and easily dismissed as a non-threat even more. And Yoongi? He knew that about you—and had used it to his advantage.

The question was…could you go through with it? You had never dared to go this far in the past. 

In truth, you hadn’t even considered it. The only person you were interested in was Yoongi. It didn’t matter if other men were closer to your age, richer, brawnier, or more traditionally handsome. The only one you wanted was Yoongi. That would always be your constant variable.

So why were you out here in this gross heat, instead of inside the comfort of your house?

Beads of sweat accumulated near your hairline and dripped down your neck. You resisted the urge to grimace. There was nothing you hated more than sweating in a context that wasn’t good sex or a pilates class. 

Not that your sacrifices mattered anyway—you knew for a fact that Taehyung hadn’t spared you a second glance since he had gotten to work.

You risked a peep over the latest issue of Vogue you had been pretending to read, your sight zeroing on the person in charge of cleaning your pool for the day. He was ridiculously handsome, with strong, defined features and a lithe build, and had this habit of sticking out his tongue whenever he was particularly focused on a task.

Kim Taehyung was maybe a little too absorbed in his work. Was it normal to be this hardworking? Not that you would know what the norm was—you had never worked a day in your life whereas your husband took his job way too seriously. Judging by what you had witnessed in the last hour, you were inclined to believe that being unhealthily dedicated to your work was the norm. The poor kid had yet to take a water break.

You hid a sigh by sipping your fruit smoothie. 

In theory, porn made seducing the pool boy seem like an easy and achievable task—but the truth was that you had no idea how to go about it. It was a shame the clichéd porn scenarios hadn’t covered what to do in case the pool boy in question failed to acknowledge your presence altogether. 

He had worked nonstop since he had arrived, barely looking up from his crouched position near the edge of the pool, too busy fishing out floating leaves and dried flower petals with the help of a skimmer.

You looked down at your bathing suit just to check that your cleavage was still on obvious display.

It had been a long time since you had to work for someone’s attention that wasn’t Yoongi’s. Were you rusty? Or had you really become that undesirable? It didn’t seem to matter that you were wearing a risque bathing suit. You might as well have been a potted plant.

Taehyung had the defense of a wall of steel. It didn’t matter what tricks you resorted to catch his eye—he never budged an inch. Even when you stretched your limbs, nylon straining to keep your decency in tact, Taehyung didn’t bat an eye. 

Needless to say, it was a huge blow to your pride.

Glad that no one else was around to witness your embarrassing attempts, you nonetheless wished to erase your existence from this earth. You gripped the sides of the magazine tighter to cover the entirety of your face and prayed for his shift to end soon.

“I could have been naked and he wouldn’t have noticed,” you despaired the next day, pressing the phone closer to your ear. 

“Maybe he just prefers dicks?” Euna tried to comfort. “Or... You know... Maybe he values his job and doesn’t want to get fired for sexual harassment.”

“I wasn’t—” You spluttered. “I’m just saying he wasn’t looking. The plants were more interesting than me! He just... I can’t believe I got bested by fucking weeds.”

“Tough luck. You shouldn’t get sulky because someone would rather work than bone you.” She paused, perhaps realizing how deep rooted your insecurity was. “Relax. It’s not the end of the world! He’s just one guy, they’re not all like that! You’re not the problem here. Sometimes guys... They need you to be more direct. They don’t understand subtle. Like, you just have to go for it. Batting your eyelashes and showing some sideboob isn’t going to suffice.”

“What do you mean go for it?” Your nose wrinkled in disdain. Yes, you were dick deprived, but not to the point that you’d jump on the nearest available dick like some savage.

“Haven’t you ever watched porn?”

“I’d rather die than deepthroat a popsicle.”

“Oh please. Like you haven’t done worse than that. ” You could hear the eye roll that accompanied her comment. “I’m telling you that men are thick in the head and sometimes need you to spell it out for them, letter by letter, word by word. None of that coy shit. The only ones that fall for that are men like your husband.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Hmph. He has the emotional range of a pea—”

“You’ve only talked to him three times in your life?”

“—so it’s surprising how well the two of you get along, all things considered. Though I suppose if anyone’s gonna get an emotionally constipated person to confess their feelings, it’s you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Did you think I was complimenting you? Oh - I gotta go now, Mom needs me in the kitchen. I’ll call you back tonight!”

“Can’t. I have T&S’s premiere launch event to attend.”

“Oh fine. Good luck, then. Get that dick! Wh— Yeah, it’s your other daughter. Oh fine. Yes, I’ll let her know.” Euna turned her attention back to you and let out a small noise of exasperation. “Mom says she’s happy to hear you and Yoongi are doing well. She’s wondering when you’ll share some, um, good news with her.”

Her words were laden with meaning. You didn’t need her to elaborate any further, having already been roped into the same conversation countless times before.

Somewhere in the background, you could hear your mother yell get that dick! with all the aggressiveness of a cheerleader during the last five minutes of a game.

Ignoring her was the wisest move. You hurriedly bid her goodbye, eager to end the call, knowing that if you didn’t you’d have to be subjected to another hour of your mother’s ceaseless nagging. And—ugh. You had other pressing matters on your hands.

Like, for one, getting that dick.

.

.

{WEDNESDAY. 11.45 am}

.

Getting dick was—surprisingly—not an easy feat. College!you would be crying if she saw how much you were currently struggling.

Your busy husband remained unswayed, no matter how often you tempted him to yield. 

That only left you with so many options, the next one being: OSTPB — Operation Seduce the Pool Boy. 

...Although that option wasn’t proving to be as fruitful as you had hoped.

Where had it all go wrong? You would have thought that your pride was enough to overwrite any subsequent embarrassment. Even if your self-esteem suffered as a consequence of your actions, you had been determined to see this through. 

Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined failing for a second time—but such had been your fate.

A glower broke out across your face, tiny creases forming between your groomed brows. Your most recent non-success had gone spectacularly awry and every time you thought back to what had happened, your stomach turned over in mortification.

Unlike Taehyung, Kim Namjoon had seen you coming from a mile away. His sharp stare had pierced straight through you, uncovering all of your secrets with the force of his gaze alone. It had taken one look at your scantily-clad body for him to correctly assess the situation and act accordingly.

Somehow that had made his disinterest all the more disheartening and humiliating. The experience forced you see your situation in a different light. You couldn’t help but pity yourself a little. A married woman throwing herself at any handsome man that came her way? That was pathetic, even by your standards.

Maybe you were better off calling the whole thing off. At least, that’s what you convinced yourself. You hadn’t counted on a third opportunity to present itself.

“Bad day?” 

“That obvious?”

Hoseok smiled. “I’d say so, yeah. You’re drinking before lunch. That’s never a good sign.”

He had a point.

Crinkling your nose, you explained, “I had to attend a baby shower this morning... It’s the third one this month! Honestly. What is it, mating season?” To you, it all served as one big reminder that everyone was getting it on except for you—which naturally put you in the brightest mood.

“Then why bother going? I’m sure you could find other activities to do instead.”

“Free Dom Perignon,” was your automatic answer, albeit not a truthful one. Hoseok cracked a smile.

“I wouldn’t have thought that to be a problem...” He eyed the flute of sparkling champagne you were currently nursing.

“It’s the principle. But... You’re right. They’re always such a chore. And I could definitely pass up on Sohee’s constant nagging. God, she never shuts up. Especially after starting on the champagne. Fucking lightweight,” you glowered, lipstick stained mouth thinning into a straight line. “All she ever does is gloat and provoke me. Whatever. She’s just mad the man she got married to is nearing 60 and balding. I’d be mad, too.” 

Hoseok laughed. It tumbled out of his parted mouth, loud, unrestrained, and so unlike the artificial pleasantries you had been subjected to all morning. The sound was clear and infectious, ringing through the summer air like wind chimes. 

You gulped down the remnants of champagne, the golden bubbles sliding down your throat smoothly. It wasn’t your first flute of the day. By now, the alcohol was flowing pleasantly through your bloodstream, warming your skin to a glow. The muscles on your face relaxed.

“But think of all the free fancy ass booze and food you’d be missing out on. If you hate the others so much, just go sit in a corner and eat your truffle hors d’oeuvres and caviar canapés in peace.” 

“If only I could,” you said, followed by a very dramatic eye roll. “I’ve got an image to keep up, you know. The gossiping crones already see me as some dumb bimbo who whored herself out to land a nice, rich, young husband.” You tried to keep your voice light and airy, but shades of bitterness could be heard despite your best efforts. 

Your marriage with Yoongi had caused quite the stir... Even now, a good year after the wedding, people still had your name on their lips, tainting it with disdain.

What bothered you was that they thought Yoongi was easy. Did they think all it took was a nice rack and a tight ass to win him over? Sometimes you wished your husband only thought with his dick—it would make things a lot easier for you, that was for sure—but that wasn’t the kind of man he was. And at the end of the day, that wasn’t the kind of man you wanted him to be, either.

“Ah, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Hoseok’s lazy smile drooped. You turned your face away, hating the sympathy you could see in his eyes. You didn’t need to be pitied. Annoyance made you take another sip.

The smart move would be to agree and end that particular discussion with a swift conversation change. It was what you were used to doing. 

But an invisible force stopped the words from shaping. Later on, you’d blame it on the liquor in your veins muddling your judgment and the sweltering summer heat making you dizzy. Instead of the prepared answers you were used to dishing out, your genuine emotions bubbled to the surface before you could filter them—and once you got started, it was impossible to stop. 

“It is. I’ve heard them. They’re not discreet, nor do they want to be.” You adjusted the sunglasses perched on your nose bridge, glad you had something to hinder Hoseok’s attentive gaze. He was too observant for his own good. “They’re always equally surprised and disappointed when they learn Yoongi hasn’t filed for divorce and put himself back on the market. Sohee’s only two years younger than me but she keeps asking me for tips.”

“Tips?”

“Yes...” To your chagrin, you found that the flute of champagne was empty so you set it down. “She always rubs her age in my face as if a two year age gap is that big of a deal. Hmph. According to her, the only reason Yoongi would stay with me for so long is because of my evil feminine wiles.”

“Didn’t you say she has a husband? Why does she care what you do with Mr. Min?”

“Yeah, well, joke’s on them because I don’t do anything.” Something sour ruined your expression. At least your Gucci shades gave you something to hide behind. “Not for lack of trying, anyway,” you added bitterly.

Hoseok tilted his head to the side, his expression one of polite confusion.

“...You don’t do anything?” he parroted, trying to make sense of the words. It was the first time hearing you profess yourself so frankly, without pretense or filter.  

“I don’t want to spell it out for you,” you grumbled, not daring to meet his eyes. You were pathetic as it was... No need to make yourself look even worse. As if you needed Hoseok pitying your nonexistent sex life on top of everything else.

There was a moment of silence, only broken by the sound of birds chirping and the distant sound of your neighbor’s dog barking. You let your eyelids flutter close, feeling a strange sensation of calm wash over your body.

Admittedly, getting your inner frustrations off your chest had been relieving, in a way. It had been nice to have someone listen to you rant, even for a moment. Talking with Hoseok was a nice change from the stilted and repetitive conversations you had during your obligatory social run-ins with other housewives. 

Speaking of Hoseok, you didn’t need to open your eyes to know that he had probably gone back to finish his job, not knowing what to say without making it awkward or crossing boundaries. You didn’t have the heart to open your eyes and check. As long as your eyes were closed, it was easier to maintain the illusion of peace you had found momentary refuge in. 

The sound of quiet rustling made you crack open an eye. Surprise had you opening both. While you had been stuck in your inner musings, Hoseok had gotten up from where he had been sitting to plop down next to you. 

You didn’t dare move. Not only because the abrupt move had caught you off guard, but you were worried that if you tried to squirm away to give him more room, you’d topple off and hit the ground. The chaise lounge was too narrow to comfortably accommodate two people but somehow it worked. When he adjusted his sitting position, the material of his swim trunks brush your outer thighs. Hoseok was so close that you felt the heat radiating off his body.

He reached over, grabbing a bottle of tanning lotion you had set down next to a pile of magazines. As he looked up, he saw your wide eyes and hastened to explain, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look really stressed.”

No shit, you wanted to snark but he cut you off before you had the chance.

“You should let me,” Hoseok suggested while shaking the bottle in his hand. “I’m pretty good at working out knots. I don’t have a certificate or anything, but—my body gets really tense after dance class, and sometimes I don’t have the time or money to go to a salon. I’ve read books and watched a lot of YouTube videos, which, I can understand may not sound very convincing but trust me, I know what I’m doing.  Of course, doing it to yourself is fine, too, but it’s a lot more effective when someone else takes care of it.”

All you could do was stare. The bout of silence was enough to make him lose a bit of confidence, and he sent you a sheepish smile. 

“I mean, it’s up to you. I’m definitely not as good as the pros but I’m not terrible, either. Some even say my massages are better than orgasms.” The sudden grin he sported was so wide that you couldn’t tell if he was exaggerating or not. “I just figured… I can’t guarantee a 100% success rate but I’ll do this free of charge, so that’s something to consider. This is a limited time offer.”

“You know I’m not one to turn down freebies,” you said through a smile, not taking as long as you should have to consider his proposition. Maybe you should have thought harder about the implications but right now his offer seemed too good to pass up. A massage that was better than nutting? Sold. “Should I…?”

“Yeah, why don’t you roll around onto your stomach for me? I can start on your back,” Hoseok said while he uncapped the bottle and squirted a dollop of tanning lotion onto his palm. He rubbed his hands together, warming up the liquid, before pressing the pads of his fingers into the meat of your shoulders. 

“This okay?” he asked as he hovered above you. “It’s better when I use scented oils like lavender but this will have to do. I didn’t bring any of my usual stuff with me.”

“Mhmm.” His voice sounded far away already. “It’s good.”

His hands covered every inch of your skin, slow in their study. Slender digits alternated between rubbing circles and squeezing flesh. From time to time, flashes of pain spread across your back as he worked on your muscles. The soreness melted away just as quickly; Hoseok seemed to know just how much pressure to exert for you to go boneless in his grip.

Slowly, you felt yourself relax under his ministrations, your head drooping further into the cushion as he worked his magic on you. You had to bite your lip to prevent any embarrassing sounds from filtering out whenever his strong hands kneaded a particularly sore spot. It felt so good that you were convinced Hoseok had been a professional masseur in his past life. Not even the ladies at the spa you regularly frequented could get you to unwind this efficiently. If you could stay in this blissed out state forever, you would. 

You heard him saying something about what pressure point he was massaging but his voice came out muffled, as if a thick stone wall was separating the two of you. His words had been tuned out the moment his hands had drifted lower to work on the bottom of your spine. Nothing else mattered but the firm press of his fingers against your heated skin made easy thanks to the slickness of the tanning lotion. 

Slightly dazed, it took a moment to register that Hoseok was repeating your name in an attempt to grab your attention.

“Is it alright with you if I untie this?” His voice was warm and syrupy like molasses. You had the strangest desire to bathe in it.

You nodded your assent, breath hitching as you felt his long digits work on the knot of your bathing suit. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally pulling the strings apart.

The tension in the air was palpable. All pretense of a simple and friendly massage having been thrown out the window the moment he had asked to remove your clothes. After all, there had been no sound and logical reason to—it wasn’t as if the thin piece of fabric tied at your back had hindered his movements in any way or obstructed his work. 

Hoseok had asked for your permission to go further and you had given it to him without a second thought.

“Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” He waited for your verbal confirmation to continue. His fingers had stilled, no longer working your skin like dough. On one hand you were thankful for him giving you ample time to back out, but on the other hand...

Now that you had been given a preview of what he was capable of doing, how did he expect you to turn him down? Maybe that had been his plan from the start—wind you up to your breaking point until you had no choice but to beg and plead. 

The top of your bikini slid off your body as you propped yourself up on your elbows. You had to crane your neck to throw him a look over your shoulder, your hair cascading down the arch of your back as you did so, but the slight discomfort was well worth it. 

The rough pads of Hoseok’s fingertips dug into the divots of your waist. To keep you still, maybe. But you could tell by the clench of his jaw that he was holding himself back. 

A sudden surge of power coursed through you. Speeding, top down on the highway and riding twisting rollercoasters...none of these came close to giving you the same high that surged through you when you were wanted, coveted, and lusted after. There was nothing more empowering than knowing your presence made men weak in the knees.

“It’s okay if it’s you, Hoseok.” You batted your lashes and let a slow smile spread across your face. 

It was an enticing invitation, one that Hoseok had no heart to refuse. He raised a tentative hand towards the scruff of your neck, letting his weight rest there as if testing the waters. When he saw that you weren’t going to retract your words or shy away from his touch, he let his palm drag down your bare back. 

There was no way that he didn’t notice the way goosebumps littered the skin he touched, the way you trembled with want. 

There was no reason to be nervous, you thought as his fingers danced on your skin. The words spoken to yourself weren’t intended to reassure—you were stating facts. Hoseok was safe and secure. You knew that if you wanted to put an end to everything right now, he’d do so without complaint.

As if reading your mind, he smiled in promise, “I’ll take good care of you. Why don’t you turn around. Let me see all of you.” He nudged you, fingers stopping short of your pale blue bikini bottoms. 

Hoseok tensed when you twisted around to lay comfortably on your back. Although he had been the one to suggest it, the sight of you topless momentarily robbed him of speech.  

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Awe colored his tone. His eyes mirrored the sentiment, wide with wonder.

He squeezed more lotion into the palm of his hands and wasted no time reaching for the dip of your waist. Warm hands slid up your sides, tickling your ribcage as they reached higher and higher. 

A shaky breath left your lips when he finally enclosed his hands around the globes of your breasts and gently squeezed. 

Desire lit a fire in the pit of your belly.

There was something undeniably sexy about having to face him while his hands freely roamed your body. When your head had been nestled in the crook of your arms, it had been easy to let your mind drift away. But your current position now made that impossible.

Hoseok’s presence was overwhelming. All you saw was him—the fiery depths of his eyes, the pretty slope of his nose, his fucking arms, and the way his long fingers were currently cupping your breasts, his thumbs rubbing the peaks insistently until they ached. The upward tug of his lips told you that he was well aware of how well he was affecting you.

“Good?” It was a rhetorical question. You were putty in his hands, as pliant and malleable as a ball of clay.

He readjusted himself between your legs and used his knees to keep your thighs spread open for him. A whine worked its way up your throat. Much to your frustration, his new position prevented you from rubbing your legs together and getting the friction you so desperately needed.

Your lower lips felt uncomfortably wet, and by the way Hoseok ran his tongue over his lips like a famished wolf in front of a long-awaited meal, you knew your arousal to be evident. By now the expensive piece of swimwear was surely stained with your juices.

Hoseok’s hands had wandered back down your body, digits now tracing your hipbones, while his gaze resolutely fixed the spot between your legs. For a reason unknown to you, he didn’t dare go any further than slip his thumbs beneath the material of your swimming suit.

Exasperation built up inside of you the longer the teasing went on. You didn’t know what he was waiting for. It was clear that he wanted it as badly as you did—if the tent in his swim shorts was any indication—so what was holding him back? How long were you going to keep staring at each other before the weakest died of blue balls?

So you did what any woman of action would have done and pulled at the strings holding up your bikini bottoms. Two quick, efficient tugs later and you were stark naked, bare as the day you were born.

Hoseok’s eyes bugged out. 

To your dismay, your forwardness failed to have the desired effect. Instead of urging him into action, all he did was freeze up.  In fact you feared that you had broken him—his mouth opened and closed once, twice, three times, but no sound came out.

“Do you need a hand written invitation?” At this point, you were running out of options. God, what did it take to get fucked around here? Like. Bless thee who invented dildos because without them you would have lost your mind a long time ago.

Finally he shook his head, hands reaching down to grip your thighs. His tongue poked out to lick his lips. “You’re something else...” 

“In a good or bad way?” you asked, the hitch in your breath audible. His hands hands had inched dangerously close to where you wanted him to touch the most.

His lips quirked into a grin. “I’ve never seen someone get this soaked over a small massage. You’re literally perfect.”

Words that should have embarrassed you were balanced out with praise. The mix of the two made your insides tighten. 

“Eager, too.” His grin widened. “That’s how I like them.”

Before you could quip back, he swiped his pointer finger through your slippery folds. The initial touch made your entire body jolt. It had been so long since someone had given you attention that your body ate everything up like it was starved. You couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched you properly, especially one that wasn’t your husband.

The thought of Yoongi only made your heart thump harder against your ribcage. You had no time to dwell on your feelings, however, not when Hoseok added a second digit to the mix. 

His brow was furrowed in concentration. Guys your age had the tendency to rush through their motions, fueled by the need to get off. Sometimes they even skipped foreplay entirely. Hoseok was not like other guys your age. He took his time running his digits through your slick lips, not caring about his own erection straining his shorts.

It didn’t take long for you to get impatient again. You had always had a problem with waiting and being patient—and the last month had seriously tested the limits of your self-restraint. 

Just when you were about to voice your frustration, Hoseok gathered your arousal until his fingers were thoroughly coated with your juices. He honed in on your aching clit with expert precision. Your thighs tensed as you tried your best to keep your hips still and your legs open. 

It didn’t take long for it to feel really good. Better than the expensive bullet vibrator that you had been using religiously for the last few weeks. You were 100% certain that you would have hurled prematurely to your end if Hoseok hadn’t eased up on the pressure, his touch now feather-light and teasing. The abrupt change in pace had you reeling.

You slumped back into the chaise lounge, the back of your head hitting the twined material with a dull plonk. Fate apparently wanted to deprive you of a good orgasm until the very end. That petty bitch.

Hoseok chuckled and you tried not to take offense. You’d like to see him last as long as you had. 

“You’re not relaxed at all.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” you deadpanned.

It was hard to keep the pout on your face when his fingers resumed their ministrations. Your knee jerked when he brushed over a particularly sensitive spot and you had to bite your tongue to keep any moans at bay.

“Ever heard of the saying ‘good things come to those who wait’?”

“I’ve been waiting plenty long!” 

“Is that so?” His tone turned sickly sweet, almost mocking. “Guess I have to reward your good behavior.”

Before you had time to second that thought, he thrust a finger up to the knuckle, the sudden intrusion catching you by surprise. It was like someone had punched the air out of you. Your mouth parted in a silent cry as his finger soon turned to two.

He kept up an easy rhythm, his fingers curving every so often to drag along your inner walls. Every single one of your nerves were on fire. 

Bit by bit, the constant and steady pressure made you unravel. Any control you had over yourself and the situation was slowly slipping through your grasp—but the loss didn’t bother you as much as it normally would have. 

“How does that feel? Shit.” He stifled a groan when he felt you clench around his fingers, no doubt imagining that it was his cock buried inside your warm pussy instead. “Shit, you’re so fucking hot.”

“You’re doing so good,” you panted between two breaths. “I’m, ah, going to cum soon.”

“Already?” he asked, equally surprised and pleased at the admission.

Your words fueled his desire to see you fall apart. His pace picked up, the force of his thrusts making your back arch every time he buried his fingers into your heat. The brush of his fingers against your velvety walls felt so good that you could have cried fat tears of gratitude. Hoseok reached so much deeper than you ever could, stroking places inside of you that you had a hard time reaching on your own.  

Hoseok must have a PhD in fingering, you thought, half-delirious from the amount of pleasure he was giving you.  It had taken him an extraordinarily short amount of time to find and zero in on all your erogenous zones. Just like how he had known which spots to press during the massage, he seemed to be eerily attuned to your body and its needs. Not that you were complaining—far from it actually.

All of your inner ramblings ceased when he squeezed in a third finger, stretching your walls to accommodate the extra digit. You expected it to burn—three fingers was nothing to scoff at, especially ones as long as his. What should have been an uncomfortable experience wasn’t thanks to how fucking wet he had made you. 

He drove his fingers in and out of you, alternating between swift and slow, rough and sweet. The wet squelches were obscene, so loud that you were convinced your neighbors could probably hear you if they tried hard enough.

Distantly, you realized what a shocking pair the two of you made. If your housemaid bothered to look out the window, she’d see you naked and getting fingered by someone who was most definitely not your husband. Now wouldn’t that be scandalous?

The mere thought of Yoongi brought you closer to the edge. Your eyes fell shut of their own accord, images of your husband replacing the ones of Hoseok. Lost in your favorite fantasy, it didn’t take long for you to reach your end. It never did when you started imagining your husband pleasuring you. 

With the memory of Yoongi’s smirk painting the dark of your eyelids, you came, walls contracting around Hoseok’s hand like it was trying to milk cock. Your back arched off the chaise, your entire frame trembling from the force of your overdue orgasm. Spots of white dotted your vision and you had to forcibly blink them away. Only then did you realize that the yells puncturing the air had belonged to you.

“So fucking pretty. How are you so fucking soft? Shit, this is way better than what I imagined.” 

“Think about me a lot?” you asked once your heart had calmed down to an acceptable rate.

You expected him to deny it but to your surprise his concession came easily. “Can’t help it.” He deliberately looked away from your look of wide-eyed curiosity. “You’re… Seriously, you could have anyone.” 

“I’m not sure about that.” You reached for the hand settled on your thigh. It was only when you interlaced fingers that he looked up at you.

There had been a time when you had felt invincible, capable of bewitching any individual of your choosing, no matter the status or experience. It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

But Hoseok spoke with such sincerity that you couldn’t help but eat up his praise. The way he touched you—stroking your body like he was handling an expensive piece of artwork, like you were valuable and untouchable—made you believe him. You wanted to be convinced. 

“I’ll show you, if you’ll let me.” He kept his gaze steady and you found it hard to look away from the intensity burning behind his stare. “Want to make you come on my tongue. Let me take care of you.”

You felt your muscles pull as you spread your legs wider, putting your glistening folds on crude display. Hoseok swallowed thickly and wasted no time diving in, one of his hands maneuvering your lower body until one of your legs hooked over his shoulder, giving him better access to your dripping core.

He leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath warm your skin. It was the only warning you got before he darted his tongue out, the flat drag of the muscle making your toes curl. 

It was slow, sweet torture. As much as you wanted more, wanted to grind yourself on his face, Hoseok kept a sturdy arm braced over your stomach while the other wrapped tightly around your thigh. You had no other choice but to just take it the way he wanted to give it, completely at his mercy. 

The steady, insistent flicks of his tongue over your clit had you gushing, your hole clenching sporadically in hopes of getting filled up again. You pulled the silky strands of Hoseok’s hair in an attempt to get him to satiate your need for more—but to no avail.

Hoseok refused to speed up, even as he felt your thighs tremble under his hold. If anything, your frustration seemed to amuse him. He chuckled against your clit, the vibrations setting each and every one of your nerve endings on fire.

“Hhn, puh-” you sucked in air. “Shit, I’m so, so close.”

He hummed in encouragement, smile hidden between your folds. 

You knew you were cumming before it actually happened. It started slowly, your toes curling and knee jerking, and then worked its way up your spine. Stars blotted your vision until all you saw was white.

If he hadn’t kept you firmly pinned in place, arm muscles flexing as you resisted, you were sure you would have crushed Hoseok’s head between your thighs. Or accidentally kicked him in the shins. The force of your orgasm was a tangible force, one that knocked the wind out of you like a punch to the gut.

“So good.” He sucked his slender fingers until they came off clean.  

Sitting there between your legs, he looked like the picture perfect definition of debauchery—red lips and chin glistening from your juices, face splotchy in the cheeks,hair mussed up and knotted by your hands.

His eyes didn’t leave yours for a second, even as he licked the last traces of you off his hand. Your core throbbed. There was something undeniably arousing about a man who genuinely enjoyed giving head, who did it because he wanted to and got off on it, not because he felt obligated to or because he wanted something else in exchange. 

“You’re so fucking sweet.” He glanced down and groaned. “I’m so hard, fuck.”

“Do you want me t—”

“No, no, just. Give me a moment.” He palmed himself through his swim trunks but kept his gaze fixed between your legs, his attention unwavering. “I’ve made such a mess of you... Look at your thighs, they’re soaked. And that stain’s going to be impossible to clean off. What are you going to do if someone asks you what happened? It’s way too big to miss.”  

You spread your thighs a bit more, intrigued by the way his hand seemed to press down harder at the visual provided. “What do you want me to tell them? I can’t possibly tell them the truth... If any of the housewives found out how good you are with your hands, they’ll end up stealing you from right under my nose.”

“I don’t care about them,” he dismissed seriously. “Why would I when the sweetest pussy is right here, all swollen and dripping for me.”

Your cum was still slowly trickling out of you. Upon hearing his words, your core clenched and the contraction made a fresh gush of opaque fluid drip down between the crevice of your ass. You resisted the urge to wipe yourself off, knew that the slight discomfort was well worth it if it meant witnessing Hoseok’s unraveling.    

Hoseok was so enraptured by the sight in front of him that he was probably unaware of how deathly attractive he looked at the moment. It wasn’t a trick of the light or an ephemeral thought. Hoseok had always been handsome in your eyes but there was a distinct difference between when he was working and when he was set on giving you the high of your life. You had never been subjected to the brunt of his charisma, but now that you had, you could tell how much control he had over himself. Even now, his sexual energy was focused and restrained. 

His eyesight had zeroed in on your pussy like a hawk sweeping in for its kill. His toned chest rose and fell, drawing attention to the sheen of perspiration lining his muscles. 

“Hoseok.” The neediness in your voice broke him out of his trance. 

When his eyes met yours, you felt your core clench up again. The sight of him shirtless, his lean muscles tensing every time his palm rubbed over the head of his erection through the material of his trunks, was enough to get you aroused all over again despite your recent orgasm. 

“Please cum on me,” you asked sweetly.

He groaned in response, the sound low and guttural in his throat. 

You hadn’t thought it possible, but his eyes darkened, black pupils swallowing up the brown of his irises until there was nothing left but raw arousal. 

“Yeah? You’d let me?” He shifted onto his haunches and hastily tugged down his shorts low enough to relieve his aching member from the confines of the fabric. His red cock stood stiff, the tip leaking pearly precum everywhere.  

A pleased smile stretched across your face. By the looks of it, he had been hard for a while.

The thought made something in your stomach curl pleasantly. You had done that, not anyone else. That alone was enough to spread heat throughout your body.

“I want you to cum all over me.”

“Fuck, when you talk like that I want to give you everything.” Hoseok held up a hand to your mouth and ordered in a gruff voice, “Spit.”

Doing as he commanded, you gathered as much saliva as you could and let it pool into his cupped palm. He muttered quick praise and wasted no time slicking up his length with your spit—not that it was needed.

It didn’t take long for him to cum.

“Where do you want it?” he asked between gritted teeth. Not once did his pace falter or slow down as he raced toward his end.

“Right here.” You didn’t need to think twice about it, your hand already reaching between your legs to open yourself up for him.

He growled as cum painted your inner thighs white. His hand stroked him through his orgasm, not stopping until he was certain he had nothing left to give you.  

When Hoseok hunched forward to slot his mouth over yours, lips tasting of you, there was no mistaking the victorious smile adorning your face.

 .

{FRIDAY. 10.21 am}

.

Something in the air had changed.

It felt like the world had tilted on its axis and the stars had realigned themselves in the sky. It was like getting your contact lens prescription strengthened—the world just looked different.

Your midday tryst with Hoseok had been the catalyst behind it all.

The reverence illuminating Hoseok’s eyes as he watched you come apart was still fresh on your mind. It filled you with bubbly giddiness. And that feeling—that swarming of butterflies in your stomach—was undoubtedly an improvement from the paralyzing numbness you had grown accustomed to over the last few months.

For the first time in a while, you had been able to sleep soundly. The results of a good night’s sleep were perceptible to the naked eye. Your skin was dewy and radiant, clear of the usual imperfections brought on by anxiety and exhaustion.

“You look well this morning,” had complimented June as she filled your empty glass with freshly pressed orange juice. You had hummed around a bite of gluten free toast, pleased with yourself.

Your good mood lasted all throughout the morning. It was Wednesday, you realized.

There was a bounce in your step when you realized what day it was and who you’d inevitably be seeing. Even though it hadn’t been that long, time tricked you into believing eons had passed since your last encounter. So much seemed to have changed since then.

You didn’t feel like the same person, for one. There was no more awkward fumbling or nervous lip biting, no sudden urge to cover your scantily exposed body with a bathing gown. 

The confident stride towards the pool’s edge felt less like an act. When you sat down at the ledge, dipping your ankles into the lukewarm water, you didn’t feel like some kind of fraud. You were no longer trying to emulate the person you had once been—you were that person. It had just taken a while to find her again.

Jimin rose to his feet. He had been changing the water filter before your arrival had made him halt mid-activity. 

For now you didn’t pay him any mind. You stretched your neck to the side, soaking up the summer sun. You were sure that you would have painted a much more seductive picture if your ass didn’t feel like it was on fire. Literally.

The stony edge of the pool was too hot, bordering on burning. You wriggled around, hoping you’d eventually adjust to the heat but in the end couldn’t handle it.

You slid in, water splashing around you as you submerged yourself. The water barely came up to your chest, which was probably for the best because your makeup wasn’t waterproof. And runny mascara? Not your best look.

When you looked up, Jimin’s unimpressed stare met you head on.

And, granted, choosing to go for a swim while he was cleaning the pool was not the smartest or most logical feat.

You weren’t here to swim, though. And Jimin knew it, too.

Jimin didn’t shy away from your gaze. On the contrary—he seemed to enjoy the scrutiny, preening. Your shameless admiration did nothing but stroke his already well inflated ego. 

He raised his brow in your direction, half-expecting you to run away again. It felt like a challenge—one you were more than happy to take on. 

In truth, you had been waiting for this opportunity. 

Jimin didn’t disappoint. With a splash, he dived in and swam to your section. He stopped just short of you, close enough to clearly see the water trickling down his body in rivulets. 

“Is this a hobby of yours?”

“Hm? What is?” He flicked his wet bangs to the side.

“Seducing married women.”

The smile he wore told you that he found your question amusing. “...Have I seduced you?”

His remark wasn’t enough to deter you. By now, you had gotten used to his teasing and it was getting easier to ignore his attempts at winding you up.

“Why do you do it? I’m sure you could have any young and pretty thing lining up to date you.” You genuinely wanted to know. Ever since you had met him and he had made his intentions clear as day, you had wondered why he’d ever bother chasing married women. What did he expect from it? Love? Money? Was this just something to pass the time? Or was this a way to prove his sexual prowess and attractiveness?

Life had taught you that nothing in the world came for free. There was always a price to be paid. Jimin seemed to have that lesson ingrained in him as well. It was in the way he carried himself with confidence, the way he knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it.

In many ways, Jimin reminded you of yourself—or the self that had existed before your insecurities had made your outer layer crumble.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “But I’m not interested in dating any pretty, young thing. To be frank… Dating holds no interest for me. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“You’re just looking to wet your dick,” you translated. 

“If I wanted to ‘wet my dick’,” he quoted with a roll of his eyes, “I could get that on campus. It’s not that hard to get laid when you look like I do.”

“Maybe you have a preference for cougars?”

“I’m serious. You of all people must know that relationships are about giving and taking. Compromise. I know what I can offer and what I’m willing to give up and none of those things people want.”    

The honesty in his voice made you pause. You couldn’t claim to understand what he meant—because you didn’t. If he didn’t want sex and if he didn’t want a relationship, what did that leave? If it hadn’t been for the truth coloring his tone, you would have called him out for his bullshit.

“Seduce… I guess you could call it that... But it’s not as bad as you probably think it is.” His plush lips pressed into a thin line. “There’s no trickery to it. Every single person I get involved with knows what they’re getting into. I tell them what I’m willing to offer and they name their price. It’s a fair exchange, don’t you think?”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. You blinked in realization. “You’re saying you’re in this for the money?”

Jimin was quick to correct you. “It’s not always money. Apparently they think it’s crass to give cold hard cash, they think it diminishes my worth or something along those lines.” He smiled and shrugged. Your eyes strayed to the curve of his collarbones. “Personally I don’t mind either way. Gifts are gifts.”

Looking at him now, you could picture it. He was young and attractive, willing to entertain bored and unsatisfied housewives while their negligent husbands failed to keep them happy. You could see why they’d be enthusiastic to take him up on the offer—Park Jimin was charming in a way that made you hang onto his every word. It was the way he carried himself, the way he talked, the way he looked at you. He was hard to resist and he knew it.

“Sometimes it’s not even sexual,” he went on to explain. “I think… Some of them… They just seemed... Not sad. But, like. Lonely, you know? And some of them… Sometimes I don’t really do anything, nothing that crosses lines, nothing that would get my dick chopped off if their husband watched the CCTV footage. Really, what I do is not as salacious as you’re imagining… Most of it is quite tame.”

“Tame?” Jimin didn’t fit the definition of tame by a long shot. Your eyebrows scrunched up together, skepticism etched deeply onto your expression.

“Well. I’m hot,” Jimin stated, serious. “So that already takes care of half of it.”

You laughed, silently wondering how it was possible for a person to be so shameless. Although you supposed you weren’t one to talk. You were as vain as they came. It was just shocking to see someone not even try to fake modesty. The near perpetual smirk on his face would be insufferable on anyone else, but Jimin made it work in his favor.

“I don’t do anything special. Well, okay. Maybe I make a show out of cleaning the pool, but that’s about it.” 

He glanced down at his choice of swimwear and you eventually caught on to what was insinuated. Much like the ones he had on during your last encounter, his swimwear seemed to be a size too small for him, hugging his thick thighs and putting his impressive muscles on display. Even the chastest person on the planet would have difficulty abstaining from ogling his build. Thirsty housewives wouldn’t stand a chance.

A half-naked, attractive man doing manual work? “I can see what you mean,” you agreed. “I don’t doubt your popularity among the married crowd.”

“Oh?” He tilted his chin so that he could stare at you through wet lashes. The water droplets gave the illusion that his eyes were framed by minuscule crystals. When he blinked, you couldn’t look away, spellbound. “Are you including yourself?”

Something in your expression made the shade of his irises burn to black, the heat in his eyes as smothering as burning hot coals. Your already unstable heart found it hard to function. It knocked loudly against your chest and you were afraid it would burst from the force of it.

As a last ditch effort to regain control of the situation, you hurriedly asked, “Do you have anything off limits? Or are you okay with doing anything?”

The string of questions broke the oppressing sexual tension that had threatened to consume you. His alluring expression shifted back to a neutral one.

“Depends on the person,” he answered after thinking it over, serious once again. “I can’t fake arousal. I’m either hard or I’m not, you know?” 

“You’ve had sex with some of them before though, have you?”

“Yeah.” It was an easy admission. Jimin wasn’t boasting but he wasn’t ashamed of his past deeds either. “Not often and never off the bat, but yes. Can’t say that I haven’t.”

“Inside or outside the house?”

“Once inside the gardening shed, against the door. Wouldn’t recommend unless you fancy a trip to the hospital to remove all the splinters on your back. I’ve also done it in the bed they shared with their husband. That was...something.” The way he said it made it sound like the understatement of the century. 

Before you could press, he continued, “Sex isn’t really something I’m up for all the time though. I’ve learned the hard way that it’s easy to let things get out of control...” A grimace, a pause, and then, “It’s easy for people to get confused. Feelings can develop and that��s... I’d rather avoid those complications if I can. There’s nothing fun about making women cry.”

It sounded like a warning.

You wondered how many times he had to reiterate his stance, how many times he had to draw lines and keep them clear to avoid breaking hearts. You wondered how much of his story was laced with truth and how much of it was twisted to deceive you.

How many before you had been presented with the same backstory? How many of them had let themselves be tempted by his proposition? It seemed like a good deal, after all. Who would be willing to refuse such a irresistible offer? You could only imagine how excited they had been at the prospect of having their appetite sated by such a young and handsome man.

You had never been under the illusion that your liaison would evolve into a whirlwind romance worthy of the greatest love songs. Unlike the countless others who had eagerly emptied out their purses just to get a taste of him, you had no plans on taming his wild heart. His love, his feelings—they weren’t what you were after. 

“What’s something you’ve never done before?” you dared to ask, angling your head to peer up at him through your lashes. It was a good angle, one you knew from experience that worked.

“Never done? Well, let’s see...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve never kissed any of them. Properly, on the mouth.”

Your brow raised. You hadn’t expected that answer. Kissing did seem tame in comparison to the exploits he had previously listed. “How come?” 

“It gets too personal, I guess.” Jimin refrained from elaborating any further. Not that he needed to—you could tell from the way he skirted around the question that kissing meant more to him than he would rather let on.  

Immediately, you knew what you wanted. 

“You said that you’d give me anything I ask for.”

Jimin wasn’t dumb; he quickly caught on.

“You want me to kiss you.” He tilted his head, a strange glint in his eyes. They flickered down to your mouth for the briefest of moments.

Your heart raced. A wary expression had crossed his face. Like he was finally seeing you differently—not as another conquest who would eat out of his hand and bend over backwards just to spend some time by his side, but acknowledging you as an equal who set her own terms and played by her own rules. A player, not a pawn.

Soon, the cautious attitude was replaced with excitement. Like the idea of playing a new game excited him.

"And what do I get in return?"

You blinked. Of course. It had been silly of you to think he'd give it up for free.

"What do you want?" You hadn't thought very far and your mind raced as it tried to find a suitable method of compensation. Expensive wristwatches, art work...

"I don't want anything you'd be willing to give anyone else." Jimin cut in, interrupting your inner musings. "I want something you'd only be willing to give your husband."

How very specific.

"I don't..." you trailed off, lost in thought. There was no time to question the nature of his request, not when your mind was caught up trying to find something, anything, that fit his criteria.

"I'll blow you."

You wet your lips. It was meant to be seductive but you were too nervous to properly pull it off.

Jimin raised a brow in response. It was impossible to tell if the answer was favorable or not, so you rambled on. "I've never... Since we started dating, the only... I've only been intimate with my husband.”

Until recently, was left unsaid. You weren’t sure if Hoseok counted. Maybe you should rephrase to avoid misunderstandings.

“I’ve never had... I’ve never sucked anyone else off.” There. Now you weren’t lying. “Even before Yoongi and I dated, I never did it that much. Not because—not because I don't enjoy it, but. I've always been more on the receiving end."

"You're a selfish lover," concluded Jimin, nodding in understanding like he hadn’t expected anything less.

You frowned. "I get that it sounds that way, but it's not! Sex doesn’t boil down to oral."

"Oh, I know," he smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I'm intrigued... But who’s to say your oral skills will live up to my standards?"

"As far as I know, no one's left you a 5 star rating for your kissing skills." Huffing, you crossed your arms. In the back of your mind, you knew Jimin was poking fun at you in order to elicit a reaction, but you were too offended to care about how you were playing into his games.

A kiss for a blowjob? If you hadn’t been desperate for the latter, you would have denounced the unfair exchange.

Jimin leaned in, his fingers tilting your chin in the angle he wanted, and studied your face like he was committing your features to memory. He drank in your appearance, down to the flutter of your lashes, the parting of your lips, and the hitch in your breath when he bent his neck to close the distance.

There was something careful about his touch. Unlike the searing intensity behind his gaze, the press of his fingertips against your skin was careful, almost like he was handling glassware. Time seemed to move extremely slowly. He took his time, seemingly content with just cupping your chin between his fingers and admiring you.

For a moment, you thought he'd back out on his offer, not willing to part with the one thing he'd denied the string of conquests who had previously been in your shoes.

When Jimin pressed his lips against yours, you had to fight back the urge to gasp. His earlier demeanor had lulled you into a false sense of security. You had expected him to take his time, kisses gentle and slow-paced. 

There was nothing of the sort—Jimin's kisses were hungry, insistent, and stole the breath out of your lungs with every press of his lips against your own. 

Whenever he let up, you took the opportunity to gasp in a mouthful of air. The lack of oxygen was making your head spin, you vision blurring at the edges. You were slipping down a very slippery slope. The longer his mouth moved against yours, the quicker you felt all reason and sanity abandon you.

Jimin’s control never wavered. There were times when you tried to dictate the pace but he'd pinch your chin to keep you still.

A moan worked its way up your throat when he gave a particular hard suck to your bottom lip. Not knowing what to do with yourself, body overheating with lust, your fingernails dug into his shoulders in a last-ditch bid to ground yourself back to reality. Jimin growled in response, one of his hands tangling itself in your hair to tug at the strands. You stilled immediately, the show of dominance enough to make your body go limp in his hold.

When his tongue finally met yours, licking into your open mouth with fervor, it  wiped your brain clean of all coherency, your mind now blissfully blank. There was only Jimin, only his heat melting against your own, only his scent enveloping you like a warm cocoon you never wanted to break out of. Eventually, though, he had to pull back for air and you almost whined in protest. 

After all, who needed air? What use was breathing when you could be spending that time kissing him instead?

It took a while for the heavy fog to lift. When it did you noted that you were still slightly out of breath, your heartbeat erratic and deafening. Under any normal circumstances, you'd be embarrassed by how effortlessly he had turned your insides to gush.

You struggled to keep your eyes open as you craned your neck to look at him properly. You had no time to feel self-conscious, however. Jimin's erotic appearance was much more interesting. 

His lips were swollen a dark pink hue that perfectly complimented the flush high on his cheeks. It was a pretty sight, but nothing comapred to the deep pools of lust that stared back at you. Jimin looked like he could swallow you whole with his stare alone.

Your entire body trembled at the prospect of him carrying out the silent promise. In fear or anticipation—you did not know yet. You had barely survived his kiss. What were you going to do if he had his way with you? Now you understood why Jimin kept himself at an arm's reach from all of his suitors. His touch was lethal, designed and weaponized to make his unsuspecting victims fall deep into trance. Once you got involved with him, there was no coming back out of it the same. He was like a ruthless drug. One hit and that was all it took for your body to become hooked to the feeling. If you had any more, you'd stay addicted for the rest of your life, whether you wanted to or not.

Jimin was dangerous. Even in your prime, you had never been this powerful. The worst part was that he knew it. He wielded his charm with expertise, knew exactly how much to give to make you weak at the knees. You had only had a taste of him and yet your body thrummed with a burning need for more.

Thankfully, his needs mirrored yours. You didn’t have to wait long for him to hoist himself onto the ledge of the pool, the lean muscles of his arms flexing as he dragged his body out of the water with the grace of a panther. In the blink of an eye he had shucked off his sodden swim trunks and placed the wet material under him as a cushion. 

You gulped, feeling almost bashful. It was...a lot to take in. It felt almost wrong to ogle at him now that he was stark naked.  

Unaware of your embarrassment, Jimin puffed out his chest, shameless as ever. With a smirk plastered on his face, he patted his thick thigh and nodded in your direction.

“C’mre.” He spread his knees, cock hanging heavy between his thighs. “Time to be a good host and return the favor.”

You waddled closer before your brain could talk you out of it, mesmerized by the sight in front of you.

Jimin’s dick was—for lack of better terms—pretty. He was thick, not too long or too veiny, and pink at the head. He kept his pubic hair neatly trimmed, the dark patch standing out against golden skin.   

Weeks ago you would have never thought twice about sucking off a man who wasn’t Yoongi. Yet here you were, mouth watering at the prospect of Jimin filling up your mouth. 

You had Yoongi to thank for that. 

For the briefest moment, you let yourself imagine the look on Yoongi’s face if he walked in on you right now. Even if you had an idea, it was hard to predict what his reaction would be...

Jimin’s croon yanked you back to reality. “Let me see what you can do. No hands, sweetheart. Show me what you got.”

The look aimed your way was full of expectation. 

Not one to disappoint, your lips automatically stretched around his girth. You suckled the tip and sighed in contentment as he slowly plumped up against the flat of your tongue

God, you had missed sucking dick. You hadn’t been lying earlier when you had confessed how much you enjoyed it. There was something exhilarating about making a man go putty in your hands—or mouth. No matter how much they thought they had control over the situation, the reality was that you had them by their cock. 

Drool pooled in your mouth, spilling at the corners, but Jimin didn’t seem to mind the mess. If anything, the visual made him impossibly harder. He hummed low in his throat as his heavy erection throbbed on your tongue, and ran a hand over your face to feel the sizable bulge poking your cheek.  

“You look so gorgeous like this, stuffed full from my cock.” He grinned down at you with all the self-satisfaction of someone getting his dick sucked. “Really fucking pretty.”

One of his thumbs traced patterns over your cheekbones and you felt your face warm. The action was almost...sweet. And it most definitely felt out of place in this context.

The tender moment was broken the instant his length hit the back of your throat. You gagged, the choked sound loud enough to drown out his deep groan of appreciation. 

It was with great reluctance that he let you pull back to catch your breath. You coughed, slightly embarrassed that you were so out of form.

He reached out to break the thin string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his weeping cock. He smoothed his coated fingers over your lips, smearing the excess saliva and his precum all over your mouth and cheeks with the focus of a painter hard at work.

The sight made his lower belly sing with satisfaction. And still, he wanted more.

Jimin took a minute to appreciate your less than perfect appearance. He was so used to seeing you with perfectly applied lipstick and coiffed hair, that seeing you so disheveled made something in his stomach kick. His thoughts ran wild. He was hit with a primal desire to ruin you, mark you up and leave the imprint of his dick in your throat so you’d remember him long after this was over.

“Wanna see you choke yourself on my cock,” he grunted, his member twitching at the thought. “Think you can do that for me?” 

Instead of a verbal reply, you leaned it to plant a kiss on the flushed head of his erection, kissing down his hard length until your mouth reached the base of it. When you looked up, his gaze was darker than the night skies. 

A shudder ran through your body, from the crown of your head all the way down to the tips of your toes.  He never broke his gaze, the weight of it pressing down on you like a security blanket.

When you took one of his balls into your mouth, wet and messy just like you suspected he liked it, his hands shot up to rake through your hair. They pulled at the strands but not hard enough to stop you. Conflict warred on his face, unsure if he wanted you stop or not.

“You’re fucking nasty,” he rasped when you gave a particular hard suck, your cheeks hollowing around his sack. “I love it. Who would’ve fucking thought that I’d land such a good slut?”

Your moan was muffled, slightly distorted, but he heard it all the same. His eyes curved into crescents. “You like that, huh?”

He abandoned the grip he had on your hair in order to enclose his fingers around his length instead.

“Show me your tongue. Yeah, like that.” He bit down on his bottom lip when you flawlessly executed his command. Jimin kept you like that for a while, your tongue hanging out and waiting on him like an obedient dog. He seemed in no hurry to get the show on the road, content with observing while he fisted his cock in lazy strokes. It was humiliating but your core had never felt this on fire.

Saliva pooled in your mouth and threatened to overflow. Just when it started to trickle down the sides of your open mouth, Jimin fed you his meaty cock as a reward.

“Now show me what a good slut is capable of.”

It was all the motivation you needed to take him as deep as your throat allowed. Your throat, unaccustomed to the stretch and burn, had difficulty adjusting. Patiently, Jimin let you to take all the time you needed. Determined to perform well, you worked on his cock until he was all you could taste and smell. 

Jimin was a lot more vocal than what you had imagined. It was a pleasant surprise. Guys usually held back - refused to give up that semblance of control - but Jimin’s ego was far from fragile. Whenever you swallowed he sucked in a quick breath of air, and when the muscles in your throat clamped down around his length he hissed out deep groans, their low timbre sending shivers down your back.

You paid close attention to his reactions and cataloged them. And that feeling - of having to learn someone’s ticks - was one that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 

Maybe if the circumstances had permitted it, you would have explored that feeling, questioned what it meant and why you enjoyed it. As it was, you were valiantly trying not to make unattractive whale sounds every time Jimin’s fat cock jabbed the back of your throat.

It seemed like ages before your throat finally relaxed enough to take him all the way down to the hilt. Jimin kept a firm hand on top of your head, not exerting enough pressure to lock you in place, but the implication was there. 

“Fuck.” His balls ached, feeling like they were about to burst. The closer he approached climax, the more his tongue ran loose. “You take it so good, make me feel so fucking good. Choke on my fat cock—just like that. A little longer, c’mon, I know you can take it. Good girl. God, you’re so—oh fuck!”

The muscles in the back of your throat had closed up and you gagged from lack of air. Eyes glassy from unshed tears, you struggled to not clamp down your teeth on his dick as your body was pushed to its limits. Only Jimin’s moans of ecstasy kept you from pulling back too soon—that and the deathly tight grip in your hair.

“Your mouth should be illegal.” Mercifully he let you catch your breath. The respite was brief. Your lungs burned but you had no time to do anything about it before he used the grip in your hair to slam you back down his length. 

If you had been able to set the pace before, there was no possibility of that now. Jimin used your mouth like he was paying for it, his rhythm fast-paced and erratic. The rough treatment should have provoked objection and a litany of protests but to your shame and surprise, there was not a fiber in your body that wanted to stop.

You knew that Jimin was nearing his end long before he announced it. He tried to keep the shakiness out of his voice, but there was no hiding the signs of his impending orgasm.

Jimin hissed out a few last obscenities, his tongue stumbling to get out the words as his entire body tensed up like a volcano about to erupt. “Better swallow it all, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to dirty the pool I worked so hard to clean, now would you? That wouldn’t be very nice…”

You sucked harder in reply, your tongue pressed up against a sensitive vein near the head of his dick. The hold on your hair tightened and he groaned in ecstasy, pleasure wracking his entire frame. “’Atta girl. You’re gonna take me right down your throat. Gonna show me how well you take it? Prove to me that you’re a good girl ‘til the end, hnn?”

Bitterness coated your tongue before he could finish formulating his question. It flooded your mouth in thick spurts.

Yoongi had always claimed that your greed was boundless when it came to cum. You were only proving his words to be true by swallowing everything down in large gulps. It was a bit on the depraved side—you knew some of your friends wouldn’t swallow semen even if they got paid millions for it—but you loved it. You sucked him down until you were certain that he had nothing left to give you.

“So fucking greedy.” Jimin huffed out a laugh and eased you off when the stimulation became too painful to bear. “Knew the moment I met you that you were just gagging for a taste. Look at you… Don’t even need to tell you to clean me off.”

Now that you were no longer caught up in the moment, it was easier to think straight. Arousal still pulsed between your legs but it had been dulled, no longer screaming for attention. 

“My husband taught me well.”

Jimin raised a brow, mouth splitting into a grin. “Maybe I should thank him.”

“That would be the polite thing to do.” Would it? What protocol should be followed after face-fucking your boss’s wife? “Though I think Yoongi should be the one thanking you.”

“Hmm.” Jimin chose not to question. Less questions, meant less involvement and he hadn’t been lying when he had said that he liked to keep his distance. Even without the questions, Jimin was perceptive enough to pick up on the unsaid. The look on your face told him everything he needed to know. “You like him a lot, that elusive husband of yours.”

“Would I be here if I didn’t?” you said, making him pause.

For once, Jimin found himself at a loss for words.

There was something disconcerting about your smirk that had his stomach twisting in knots. It was not the look he expected to see. Instead of the residual yearning and disappointment, there was nothing but satisfaction written on your face. It bothered him for a reason he could not quite grasp.

Without really knowing how or why, Jimin's instincts told him that he had been played at his own game.

.

.

{MONDAY. 10.32 am}

.

“It’s today, isn’t?” 

You kept the phone pressed close to your ear by raising your shoulder into an exaggerated shrug. Your hands were otherwise occupied, one of them taking out a hair roller, the other applying a deep red color onto the soft pillow of your lips.

It was hard work—one wrong move would stain the skin around your mouth. On any other day, you wouldn’t dare rush, but today there was no time to erase and reapply. You were on a tight schedule. Luckily for you, you had the art of multitasking down to a T.

On the other side of the line, Bogum replied to your inquiry. You hummed in a distracted manner, too busy observing your reflection for any imperfections.

Satisfied with your handwork, you smacked your lips together. Red was the perfect choice. Femme fatales like Marilyn and Brigitte would be proud.

“He left so early this morning I wasn’t even able to wish him luck. Do you happen to know when he’ll be done? He won’t be home before... Ah - I see. Okay, yes, of course I will. No, that’ll be all, thank you Mr. Park. I will, thank you. Have a nice day.” 

After casting one last pleased once-over at your reflection in the vanity mirror, you made your way to the conservatory with all the smugness of someone who knew that they were in for the fuck of their life.

And there was no better candidate for the job than Kim Seokjin. 

Equipped with model-like proportions and a face that belonged on the silver screen, he was the epitome of beauty. Renaissance artists would have begged on their knees to replicate his good looks on canvas. You knew, however, just by looking at his perfectly symmetrical features, that someone as physically perfect as Kim Seokjin was incapable of being duplicated. Renowned and prestigious painters would have struggled to capture the aura he radiated, their painted renditions crude imitations of the real thing.

His presence alone inspired adulation. With that kind of face, it was probably common occurrence that throngs of women - and men - threw themselves reverently at his feet like he was a god and the world was his temple.

In other words—Seokjin was unworldly beautiful. 

...And he also had the ego to match it. 

In that aspect, he reminded you of Jimin. They were both individuals who would never settle for sub-par fucks, even if their lives depended on it. 

Seokjin was well aware of his worth and he probably thought himself deserving of the best. Unlike Jimin, he had no interest in playing games. You knew that with him, there would be no give and take, no push and pull, no ploys of seduction. If he liked what he saw enough, he’d bite. If he didn’t, he’d turn up his nose and move on to the next best thing.

Maybe the past few days had gone to your head, filling you with undeserved confidence, but you were convinced that he wouldn’t turn you down. Not when you had on your fuck-me-heels and a dress you knew for a fact made your ass look fantastic.

You looked fucking good. In the past an outfit like this would have been sufficient incentive for Yoongi to bend you over the nearest piece of furniture and fuck you silly until your legs turned to jello and you forgot what day of the month it was.

If it had once worked on Yoongi – the toughest stone to crack – then Seokjin would most likely break as easily. As monumental as his ego was, Seokjin wasn’t an impenetrable fortress.

Still…you had expected a bit more resistance than the reality you were met with. When you had asked him whether he’d fancy taking a break, your tone unmistakably suggestive, Seokjin had proceeded to ditch the protective gloves and cleaning equipment, not needing to be asked twice, and had promptly followed you into the house with the enthusiasm of a puppy promised a treat.

As soon as you had crossed the threshold, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of you. Large hands groped whatever handfuls of flesh they were able to reach, zealous in their exploration. You giggled at his blatant impatience. All of your assumptions were proved right—Seokjin was undoubtedly accustomed to getting whatever he wanted, when he wanted. He took without hesitation, his movements bold and unabashed.

You had to physically pull him down the hallway in order to get him to move. If he had his way, he would have probably taken you right there against the wall, too impatient to bother with the removal of clothes.

“In here?” he gawked, his eyes darting around the room in alarm. “You want to fuck on your husband’s bed.”

You huffed out an amused breath. “It’s my bed, too. Where did you expect me to bring you, the rooftop?” 

Seokjin paused, considering. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed around an invisible knot of nerves.

In the background, only the quiet whir of a ceiling fan could be heard. If you listened hard enough, you’d probably be able to hear the conflicting thoughts warring through his mind.

Inwardly, you rolled your eyes. What kind of skewered sense of moral righteousness was this? He was fine fucking his boss’s wife but not in his bed?

Seokjin didn’t take too long to arrive at the same conclusion.

“Alright,” he said, mind made up. Any trace of hesitation had been erased from his eyes, replaced only by fiery resolve. “Let’s get it.”

“I—” you opened your mouth and then closed it. 

You had forgotten what it was like to fuck around with fratboys. It brought you back to a time when the only available guys around you were as vapid as they were handsome. It came without saying that hooking up with the star players on the football team had come with its perks—like their short refractory periods and unbeatable stamina. But all in all, the list of cons had outweighed the pros, and you had come to the conclusion that fifteen minutes of sex with a hot guy wasn’t worth the pain of being bored out of your mind.  

Meeting Yoongi had been a breath of much needed fresh air. You still recalled the elation and excitement of meeting someone so sophisticated and worldly. College kids couldn’t hold a candle to him.

Seokjin bent down and kissed you. 

You had been so engrossed in your thoughts that the feeling of his lips against your own did not register at first. But Seokjin was insistent and refused to be ignored. He worked his mouth against yours, tongue hot and probing the seam of your mouth.

Instinctively, you gave in to his advances, your body responding before your brain had the chance to catch up. His plush lips were soft and tasted slightly of coconut. Most importantly, they were experienced in the art of kissing. Seokjin kissed you fervently, tongue swiping against yours, determined to elicit as many moans as he could from you.

“That’s better,” he said between two pants. “I want you like this.”

You hummed, slightly dazed. “Like what?”

In lieu of an answer, Seokjin cupped your cheek and angled your head to the side so that he could kiss you deeper.

You had no opportunity to demand a verbal reply—not when his mouth kept you otherwise occupied. As the seconds stretched on, you felt yourself go weak in the knees. If it wasn’t for the firm hold he had around your waist, bracing you against his concrete-hard chest, you were certain you’d have already crumpled into an inelegant heap on the floor.

Hours or minutes could have elapsed—you had no clue. It was only when Seokjin pulled up for air that time seemed to regain its true course. You blinked away the spots dotting your vision, the world slowly coming back into focus.

“Yeah, like this,” Seokjin smiled down at you, pleased with what he saw. “I want you like this—thinking only of me, no one else. I’m the only one you’ll ever think of after this, won’t I?”

You cleared your throat, not trusting your voice. Seokjin raised an eyebrow like he expected an answer and you obliged, albeit a bit wobbly. “I’m not sure that’ll be enough to get me to remember you.”

Seokjin laughed. You could feel it rumble in his chest, so loud was his amusement. “You only say that because you haven’t been with a man like me. Once I give it to you, you’ll never think about another cock again.”

You tilted your head as if unconvinced. You had heard variants of the same promise over the years and had learned not to hold anyone to their word.

“What do you need?” Seokjin cajoled. “Tell me what you need from me and I’ll give it to you, babygirl.”

“I need a cock in me.” The ache between your legs was becoming unbearable.  

He exhaled sharply, not expecting you to be so blunt. “Fuck, okay.”

One of his hands reached down for the silver buckle of his belt but the nervous buzz thrumming through his body made him clumsy. After a few seconds of fumbling with the button of his jeans, you joined in to help. His impatience seemed to have rubbed off on you because you found that you had no use for unnecessary prolongations. As crude as the thought was, you needed to be fucked. Preferably sooner than later.

“Shit.” His jaw clenched just as your hand squeezed around his length. 

“You’re so big, what the fuck.” You palmed his girth once again, just to confirm your initial assessment. And—yep. He was fucking packing. 

So he really had hit the genetic jackpot. Huh, you intoned, not really surprised by the discovery. Some people really did have all the luck in the world.

You fell to your knees unceremoniously. The polished floorboards dug into your shins but you were quick to dismiss the discomfort, too taken by the sizable length in front of your face. It wasn’t impressively thick, but the length was just right. Your thighs tightened as you imagined how well it could fill you up.

Impatience got the best of you and you spit into your palm, too lazy to go grab the lube from the bedside table. You used both hands to work his member to stiffness, occasionally leaning forward to spit onto his growing erection, the excess saliva easing the glide of skin on skin.

“Fuck, keep going. Get me ready to fuck you.” The sound of his voice made you glance up for the first time.

From this angle, Seokjin positively towered above you.

God, you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.

Lust pumped through your veins, warming you from the inside out. Seeing him so affected made you re-double your efforts. The only thought crossing your mind right then was how much you wanted to see him to fall apart.

You twisted your hand with every upstroke, paying extra attention to the sensitive underside near the head of his cock. Every time you let your thumb stroke that particular area, Seokjin’s hips thrust forward of their own accord, a muffled groan of satisfaction making its way past his lips before he could swallow them down.

As much as he tried to appear unaffected, you could tell that he was slowly but surely being worn down. His hands balled into fists at his sides, nails digging white crescents onto the surface of his skin in an attempt to reign in his raging desires.

When you reached down to play with his balls, Seokjin decided that he had had enough.

Yanking you up by the arm, he manhandled you onto the bed, lifting you around like you weighed next to nothing. The perfectly ironed Egyptian cotton sheets crinkled under your weight but you couldn’t care less. By the end of the night, those wrinkles would be the least of your concerns.

“You sure about this, right?” He asked while kicking his pants and briefs all the way off. The rest of his clothes followed suit, and you gulped audibly as he revealed his broad shoulders, chiseled chest and slim waist in all their glorious nakedness. “Once I start I won’t hold back… And I’m not sure you’re ready for the fuck of your life.”

“Yes! I need a cock so bad. Please.”

Ignoring your whiny pleas, he bent his torso over the edge of the bed, blindly searching through the discarded clothes piled up on the floor.

“Condom. Where the fuck did I—Aha!” He grinned triumphantly when he found the foil packet in the back pocket of his jeans.

“I don’t need it,” you cut in before he ripped it open. “I’m on birth control and I’m clean.”

“Wha— Are you serious?” Momentarily stunned, he gaped down at you, condom wrapper still clutched between his fingers. “You want me to raw you.”

His crude phrasing made you squirm. “I like the feeling of cum in my pussy…” You felt your cheeks flame at the confession. “If you’re clean then please don’t use it.”

Seokjin chewed his bottom lip, visibly lost in thought.

“Please? Want to feel you fill me to the brim.” His eyes flashed. You knew you had him, then. 

When he spoke next, it was more out courtesy than due to indecisiveness. “What about Mr. Min?”

“What about me?” a familiar voice cut through the air.

You both startled, heads whipping towards the doorway. Except, unlike you, Seokjin recoiled, stumbling back like he had been burnt by a hot iron, his hands seizing the nearest pillow to cover up his modesty. From an outside perspective it must have been quite the sight.

“Oh please don’t stop on my account. Keep going, we were just getting to the good part,” Yoongi said coolly as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was still in his work clothes but had lost his suit jacket somewhere along the way. His white dress shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and your eyes were instantly drawn to his arms. One of the corners of his mouth twitched when he took note of your interest but his face remained otherwise blank, giving nothing away.

“W-what?” Seokjin gulped, any of his earlier bravado gone.

"Did I stutter?" Yoongi’s tone was monotone, almost bored. But his eyes—they told a whole different story. They pierced right through you, pinning you in place. Not that there was anywhere else you'd rather be than here, right now, with him, in this bedroom. You had been waiting for this moment for so long that the anticipation was killing you.

His cold gaze slid back over to Seokjin as he silently seized him up. "Well? Didn't I hear you say you were going to give my wife 'the fuck of her life'?" Yoongi's words were twisted with sarcasm. It was evident that he was looking down on Seokjin, his tone nothing but straight up condescending.

The way they talked about you like you weren’t even in the room should have been off-putting but for now you preferred to watch the scene unfold without interfering. There would be plenty of time to play later.

"What? Can't put your money where your mouth is?" Yoongi scoffed and leaned back against the wooden doorframe, feigning disappointment.

Seokjin bristled, deeply offended.

Internally, it dawned on you that this might be the first time someone had so openly challenged Seokjin. You knew guys like him—they were used to getting their way, used to being showered in constant praise, used to people coming back and begging for seconds, so thirsty for more they’d settle for scraps. Yoongi contempt had probably knocked Seokjin out of his orbit, rattling the latter to the core.

"You think I can't pleasure her?" he dared ask, eyebrows inflexed. His attempt at intimidation would have been more efficient had he not been the only one naked, you observed from the sidelines.

"Go on." Yoongi waved his hand, looking like he couldn't care less. "I'd like to see you try."

The clear disregard made Seokjin's jaw tick. His heavy brow furrowed. For the first time since Yoongi's presence was made known, Seokjin rounded on you, his normally honey brown irises now a murky, indescribable color. 

You shuddered, high on the feeling of being the subject of both of their attention. 

The air crackled with electricity, the tension escalating by the second, and you realized that playtime had arrived faster than anticipated. 

Seokjin approached you, much like a lion stalking his prey. You couldn't help but notice the determined glint in his eye, the confidence he wore unfailingly till the end. In his mind, he was going to win. He had no doubt about it. You were going to bend to his will and cum hard on his tongue just like the countless others had before you.

You almost felt bad for him. 

Maybe... Maybe if you had met him years ago, things would have gone exactly like how Seokjin pictured it in his head. But what he failed to realize was that he was in Yoongi's den, playing by Yoongi's rules.

And your husband? He never started anything he knew he wouldn't be able to finish. That was the business man in him. He measured the risks and calculated the cost before any operation, thus ensuring that he would never be beaten.

It was easy to tell by his relaxed posture that he really did view Seokjin as a non-threat.

You had known, of course, that he had never considered losing as an option. Yoongi had been the one to propose this particular game in the first place, after all. Even if it was a first for the both of you, he must have known that the stakes would always remain in his favor.

“Ready?” The mattress dipped under his weight. Seokjin crawled over you, kneeling so that his legs bracketed yours. There was a fire in his eyes that hadn’t been there fifteen minutes ago. He looked like a man with something to prove.

Inadvertently, your gaze flitted back to the doorway, searching for Yoongi’s. You wanted to see his face, needed to see how he’d react to another man touching you. 

“Eyes up here.” Reluctantly, you followed Seokjin’s instructions. He noticed your pout right away. “When I’m through with you, you won’t even remember you’re married.”

Gutsy. Your head turned to catch Yoongi’s reaction but Seokjin stopped you by leaning down to kiss you full on the lips. 

It was a strange feeling. Usually, you shut out the rest of the world, attention solely focused on the pair of lips moving against your own, but instead you felt hyper-aware of every little thing going on around you, ears straining as you tried to figure out what Yoongi was up to. 

Seokjin nipped your swollen lip, unhappy with how your mind kept drifting. You tried to make a more conscious effort and show more interest, running your hands up and down his arms and letting out puffs of air whenever his hands ghosted over a ticklish area of your body.

Now that you had become a more active participant, you had finally begun to appreciate the slow pace Seokjin had built up. Contrary to your expectations, he hadn’t shoved his horse dick into you and hammered away. He took his time with you, making a show out of it. You couldn’t say you disliked it.

Okay, so, admittedly your expectations had been pretty low to begin with... But you were quickly seeing the errors of your ways. And, in your personal opinion, it was always better to be pleasantly surprised than the opposite. 

Yoongi did not share the sentiment.

It was the first time a stranger had been invited into your shared bedroom. Seeing another man settled against the pillows he slept on at night wasn’t a sight he had ever imagined he’d see—let alone enjoy. 

And for a while, he let himself watch without intruding in on the scene, a foreign and inexplicable feeling rooting him to the spot. Yoongi had no name for it but the longer he played spectator, the more intense the emotion became.

Beneath the alien feeling, he detected arousal and although he wasn’t sure what exactly he found exciting about the sight in front of him, a ball of desire coiled tightly at the base of his spine.

Objectively, both of you looked beautiful together. Your words had not done Seokjin’s beauty justice. When he looked at the pair of you intertwined, it was like watching a high quality Hollywood movie. But Yoongi knew that his arousal wasn’t just surface level. It ran deeper than that.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he goaded, needing to confirm his suspicions. “You should get her ready to take cock. She hasn’t been fucked in a while, so she’ll be tight.”

He saw how his words made you squirm and smothered a smirk. He couldn’t wait to deal with you.

When Seokjin looked up to meet his gaze, Yoongi was surprised to see incredulity present in the brown of his eyes.

“Wait.” He swallowed, suddenly losing the confidence he had sported earlier. “Y-you’re actually serious about this?”

Ah. Yoongi suspected that the slow pace hadn’t been because Seokjin had wanted to enjoy his wife, but because he had been waiting for Yoongi to jump in and put a premature end to all of this.  

“Looks like you really were all talk. But what else should I have expected from some college grad student…”

Provoking him into action proved to be too easy. The line of Seokjin’s mouth hardened and he renewed his previous efforts. He grew bolder, hands deliberately reaching for your breasts to squeeze them through the expensive material of your dress.  The kiss became sloppier as well, losing all finesse. From what Yoongi could see, there was less technique, but more tongue and teeth.

Whatever fire Yoongi had lit inside him had made him careless.

Yoongi’s pointed stare never strayed. As if sensing the scrutiny directed his way, Seokjin fumbled with his movements, eager to prove but too frenzied to actually accomplish anything.  

By the looks of it, he wouldn’t be able to find your clitoris even it was drawn on a map with the step by step instructions attached. Yoongi would find the whole situation laughable if he wasn’t so affronted on your behalf.

“Do you know how to fuck a woman or not?” he spat out, exasperated.

“Just a minute, I’m—”

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Yoongi interrupted, his curt tone leaving no room for argument. He loosened up his tie with one hand as he continued, voice sharp, “Go sit up by the headboard and don’t even think of moving. That means no touching your dick, either.”

There was a tense moment of silence as Seokjin gaped at him, his eyes wide as he tried to quickly process the rapid turn of events. 

"I won't force you to stay. It's your call. But if you choose to play with us, you're abiding by my rules." 

Seokjin looked like he wanted to argue and put up a fight and for half a second, you really thought that he would.  Yoongi took his silence as a favorable answer, certain that the younger man wouldn't leave.

“I’m feeling generous tonight so I’ll let you watch. You can think of it as a learning experience. I’ll even show you how to make my slut soak the sheets.” A smile curved his lips, taunting. “And maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you lick it up. How’s that sound?”

Yoongi raised his brow in challenge and that was all it took for Seokjin to slowly make his way to the edge of the bed, his back hitting the mahogany wood with a dull thud.

Yoongi liked to think he was a reasonable man. 

He was fine with a lot of things—you maxing out his credit cards on ridiculously expensive items of clothing that you never wore more than once, you taking out his newest car for a spin in the big city without permission, you spending an extra thirty minutes on your hair and makeup when he was running late for a dinner function.

What he was not okay with, however, was you sharing your pussy with barely-out-of-college boys who were incapable of going five seconds without creaming their pants.

No, that was where he drew the line.

You were a woman with standards. You had married him, not some pretty-faced fratboy, had you not? If that wasn’t sufficient proof, then what was?

As vain and prideful as it sounded, Yoongi refused to be put on the same level of the other men who chased after you. Unlike those men who salivated over you like a piece of quality meat, he knew exactly what you wanted and what you needed.

In the bedroom, a voice in the back of his mind corrected. You only know what she wants in the bedroom.

Yoongi swallowed, forcing the sudden feeling of inadequacy down his throat. He had failed you on that end. Old habits were hard to kill and he had learned of the consequences the hard way.

It had always been like that. Even as a kid, Yoongi liked rationality and reasoning, preferring numbers to the abstract. Equations had solutions, emotions did not. Before he had met you, every little thing he did had answered logic’s call. He woke up because he had to get to work. He ate because his body needed the energy to survive.

He was so used to fending for himself, of thinking of himself as a unit, that sometimes he forgot that his actions affected others as well. In retrospect, his lack of empathy had most likely been the root of the reason why all of his previous relationships had failed miserably.

People had never stayed long enough to work the issues out. Maybe they figured that he was too anchored in his habits to change or too emotionless to understand. There was also the financial imbalance that factored in and despite Yoongi’s verbal reassurances, none of it had helped. It was…uncomfortable, to say the least. His previous partners had never dared voice out their concerns and worries and Yoongi hated it, hated feeling like he was using his money to keep people in his life, no matter how miserable they clearly felt on the inside.

With you, it was different.

Yoongi reached the foot of the bed and met your honest gaze. Something squeezed his heart tightly and refused to let go. Despite all his flaws, you had stayed. Not out of obligation or monetary obsession—but out of love.

Love…was hard to define. Every time he thought he knew what it meant, it turned out he didn’t. But as he stood there with you finally at an arm’s reach, he thought he felt the emotion beating against his rib cage, making a home in his chest.

“Yoongi.” Your fingers twitched at your side, like they wanted to reach out for him but weren’t sure if they were allowed to.

When he draped himself over your body and interlaced his fingers with yours, it was as if something inside him finally locked into place.  

“My love.” Your pulse jumped at the term of endearment. He liked using it ever since you had let slip that none of your previous lovers had ever called you that way. Even if you had initially complained that it made him sound like a fifty year old man, he knew you enjoyed it by the way your body never failed to respond. “I’ve made you wait long enough.”

He meant it in more ways than one. Yoongi was ready to give you everything, body and soul. He belonged to you.

“Are you going to do something about it?” You held your breath and waited for his answer, anticipation turning you into a squirming mess against the sheets.

“This dress brings back many memories,” he said instead, pointer finger tracing down the line of your cleavage. From this distance, Yoongi could count every single beauty mark that speckled your skin. His memory supplied images of himself licking and connecting each dot, the hot drag of his tongue leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. His mouth hungered for a taste but Yoongi curbed the desire before it had the chance to cloud his judgment. “Although I thought I had ruined it beyond saving a long time ago.”

“Your black card bought me a new one.”

Yoongi snorted, the unrefined sound breaking his cool façade. “Let’s get it off you. As much as I adore it, it looks better on the ground.”

“Take what’s yours.”

Yoongi wasted not a second more, the hurried movements of his hands conveying his burning arousal. With deft fingers, he found the zipper of your dress and pulled, watching with satisfaction as inch after inch of naked skin was exposed.

“Naughty slut.” His eyes narrowed as he admired your exposed body. Yoongi forced himself to keep his hands still at his sides even though he was dying to relieve his painful erection from the tight confines of his briefs. “Are you always bare under your clothes?”

“The lines…” you mumbled and trailed off. “My dress is so tight that my bra and panties show if I wear any.”

Yoongi scoffed, forcing his eyebrows into an expression of disbelief. “So you’re not okay with strangers seeing the outline of your thong, but fine with them ogling your hard nipples? Why? That desperate for them to know what a horny wife I have?”

“I wouldn’t be this horny if you fucked me more often.” You glared.

A beat of silence passed before Yoongi unlocked his jaw. “We’ll have to do something about that mouth later. Seems like a lesson on manners is in order.”

“Counting on it, sir,” was your cheeky answer.

Yoongi’s hand came down with a crack. He watched as your whole body jolted from the impact. “Hands and knees. No, the other way. Face our guest. Since you like showing off your tits so much, here’s another perfect opportunity to do so.”

In your haste to follow his orders, you stumbled several times, knees knocking together as you readjusted yourself to his whims. Without needing to be told, you spread out your legs and arched your back, leaving the most intimate parts of you completely exposed for his viewing pleasure. If he wanted to take you right then, there was nothing stopping him from doing so.

Seokjin was all but forgotten at this point. He could have left the room and Yoongi wouldn’t have noticed—or cared. His vision had tunneled, his entire world narrowed down to the sight of you presenting yourself just like a good whore should. It seemed like you were equally affected, if not more. Yoongi spread your cheeks so that he could fully appreciate the view of your drenched pussy. If he had ever doubted your arousal, your slick thighs, shiny with your juices, and swollen lips were enough proof to dispel such uncertainties.

“You’re all mine to take,” he said in a soft growl.

He knelt behind you and ran his hands up the back of your sticky thighs. This position left him at the perfect height to eat you out. His mouth watered at the prospect of finally having his fill. Too long had he deprived himself of a delicious meal… It was time to fix that.

You moaned the instant his finger came into contact with your rapidly hardening clit. Your feeble attempts at shoving your hips back for more were thwarted by Yoongi's strong grip on your thigh, the rough pads of his fingertips bruising the soft skin in warning. It took a herculean effort to keep still but you somehow managed, knowing that your obedience would pay off.

Yoongi liked to enjoy his meals. He took his time with you, playing with the abundance of wetness that had collected between your thighs, dragging his digits across your velvety folds.

He loved taking you this way. With you offered up to him ass up and legs spread, he could really get into it, mouth and hands dictating the pace without your interference. There was nothing you could do save for holding open your cheeks and plead for more.

Sometimes—when he felt merciful—he indulged you. But he could not deny that there was something infinitely more satisfying when he drew out your pleasure until you shook and cried with need.

“Mhmm.” His groan echoed yours as he slid in his ring finger into your hot cunt. You were so aroused that the stretch could hardly be felt. “Snug and wet. S’gonna be a tight fit when I open you up with my cock later.”

The unspoken promise of cock made your walls squeeze around his finger and Yoongi groaned again  as he imagined how amazing you’d feel around his painful erection instead of his hand.

For now, he pushed the ache aside. The only one that mattered right now was you.

He flattened his tongue and let it drag across your folds, moaning as the taste of you flooded his mouth.  Fuck. It wasn’t enough, he thought frantically. As he continued to lick into you like a man starved, he wondered how he could ever possibly tire of your taste. How he had managed to stay away from it all this time was a mystery he had yet to solve.

Your cries of pleasure grew louder as his tongue fucked into you, sampling the snugness of your walls for what would come later. Wetness dripped down his chin but he could care less about the mess you made. He kept licking it up, not wanting to stop for a single second, only pulling off whenever his lungs burned from lack of air.

Attuned to your body and its needs, he felt every tremor and hitch of breath. Whenever he sensed your heart rate kick up, he slowed down and changed the tempo. He kept you on the edge like that for several long minutes, building you up only to bring you back to zero.  

Finally, he pulled back, ignoring the betrayed cry he ripped from your throat, and wiped the shine off his chin with the back of his hand. The taste of you was still heavy on his tongue and he couldn’t help but lick his lips clean in satisfaction. Nothing pleased him more than feasting between your legs and it would be a lie to say that he hadn’t missed it terribly. 

A creak of the mattress distracted him. Seokjin shifted uncomfortably, his erection prominent. By the looks of it, he had been hard for a rather long time. Yoongi was pleased to see that Seokjin had stayed true to his word—his hands were obediently shoved under the meat of his thighs to prevent himself from touching himself.

Yoongi had been so focused on the five-star meal nestled between your thighs that he had forgotten his manners. 

“Darling, it’s time to show our guest what a lovely host you are.” He punctured his command with a sharp swat to your ass.

You stumbled forward but looked back at him for guidance. “How—?”

“Don’t think I forgot how well you begged for cock earlier,” he reminded you. “You still desperate for it?”

“Want,” you shook your head, confused. “Want yours.”

The features of his face softened. “You’ll get mine soon enough. But you know only good sluts get my cock and I still need some convincing.”

“I’m good,” you insisted, your lips pursed into a pout.

He raised his brow and tilted his head.

Squinting your eyes defiantly, you crawled over to Seokjin and begged, shameless and past the point of caring about modesty. “Please fuck my face.”

“Is that—?” Seokjin gulped, looking down at you with worried eyes. “Will you be okay?”  

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” A wicked grin played at Yoongi’s lips. “I’ve cock trained her to take it like a good slut should.”

The unabashed moan his words provoked was all it took for Seokjin to know that you were fully on board with him fucking your face. His eyes widened imperceptibly at how shameless you looked, mouth open with your tongue out, panting for his hardened length down your throat like a bitch in heat. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, squeezing the base of his cock to keep himself together.

Your lewd display seemed to amuse Yoongi to no end. 

“Look, she’s hungry for it. Don’t keep her waiting, she’s been good.”

Seokjin gave in. No matter what others believed, he was only human. All men had their limits and Seokjin’s self-restraint had been tested too many times today to count. He fed you his cock, slipping inch after inch into your hot mouth.

His groan of appreciation vibrated deep in his chest and he tipped his head back as the feeling of your mouth momentarily overwhelmed him.

It didn’t take long for him to get lost in the feeling. Although he had had his reservations about the entire thing, Seokjin stopped holding back once he saw how enthusiastic you were. You sucked his cock, working him down even if it was obvious his sizeable length wasn’t making it easy.

“Force it down,” instructed Yoongi.

Seokjin jumped, his eyes flying open as he remembered the older man’s presence. Your mouth was so good he had erased everything else in the room.

“What?”

“She won’t be able to take it in her throat unless you help her.” Yoongi observed with almost clinical detachment. Seokjin took a moment to admire the man’s calm and collected attitude. The moment dissipated quickly, however. Your tongue had started doing things to the head of his cock that had him biting down whines of pleasure.

You laughed around his dick when he failed to suppress one of them. Seokjin’s erection twitched as the vibrations teased him further and he groaned out a few creative expletives that had you giggling harder.

His hips kicked up of their own accord, making you gag loudly as his length reached the back of your throat. Seokjin almost apologized but you dug your nails into the meat of his ass and signaled him to do it again.

He swore again and fucked into your mouth slowly at first but once he saw you could take it, started building a pace. “Holy s-shit. I’m going to blow my load soon, fucking fuck.”

That only seemed to strengthen your determination. You got even tighter around him, almost like you were trying to milk the cum out of his dick with your mouth.

Yoongi approached with the stealth of a cat, making sure not to startle you when you had a cock buried in your throat. Seokjin glanced up and was glad to see that the man wasn’t wholly unaffected. Compared to when he had first met him, Yoongi looked a lot less composed. His once perfectly ironed button-down was now wrinkled, his tie loosened and crooked. And then there was his cock—hard and leaking.

Seokjin’s balls tightened and he blinked through the haze, not knowing why he was so turned on by being watched. Yoongi kept the grip on his dick loose, his strokes lazy and unhurried. Next to him, Seokjin felt like he was about a minute or two away from nutting down your throat.

“Want to know why she’s so desperate for your cum?” The way he said it—like he was imparting a guarded secret—made Seokjin look up at him through heavy lids. Every so often his lids would droop close, attention wavering with every lick of your wicked tongue.

Yoongi leaned in so close that his breath tickled the side of his neck. “It’s because she knows that it’s the only way I’ll give her what she’s been so desperately craving all this time—my fat cock fucking her pussy.”

Seokjin was unsure who the words were truly aimed at. You reacted like they had been whispered for your benefit, moaning without reserve around his dick. 

"She's so cock hungry she was willing to seduce handsome pool boys if it meant that she'd get fucked by me. Reward the slut. Cum, now."

“Oh fuck!” Seokjin threw his head back as he felt his balls empty themselves. The muscles in his thighs quivered and his knees threatened to give out. “What the fuck. I haven’t cum this hard in months.”

His chest heaved as he got his heartbeat under control. When he was finally capable of breathing normally, he chanced a glace down at you and swore his heart stopped for a nanosecond.

Yoongi had pried your mouth open with his fingers, examining the insides of your mouth. The sight was…obscene. Straight out of a porno. Seokjin’s stomach tightened as he observed the scene in front of him, feeling his spent dick twitch in interest despite the recent mind-numbing orgasm.

“Good girl,” praised Yoongi and even to Seokjin’s ears, he sounded proud of his wife’s achievements. “Spit.”

He motioned at his raging boner. “Get me ready to fuck you. With how long it’s been, you’re going to need all the lube you can get.”

Visibly excited at the prospect of finally getting your husband’s cock, you obliged, gathering all the cum in your mouth and letting it drip down his erect length in globs of white. Seokjin had never experimented with cumplay and didn’t know if the sight aroused or disgusted him.

“Mhm,” Yoongi grunted as he slicked up his dick, coating the entirety of it in another man’s cum. The sound of each stroke rang out loudly in the otherwise quiet room, the sound lewd and wet.

“Please fuck me now,” you pleaded, hands clasped in your lap and knees still tucked under you from earlier. The position and sweet tone made you appear demure—but by now Seokjin knew better. “You promised.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He smiled wide enough for creases to appear near his eyes. “Time to give you what you worked so hard for.”

Yoongi didn’t wait for a reply—not that he had been expecting one in the first place. He pushed you back until your back hit the mattress and crawled over you, pinning you to the bed with his weight.

He kept his eyes level with yours as he pushed the head of his cock into you. The stretch was slow but he refused to go faster, ignoring your noises of encouragement. Despite his earlier rough treatment, he had no interest in inflicting this kind of pain. He kept his hips still, not giving in to his instincts, and waited until you had completely adjusted before finally moving again.  

Your moan sounded more genuine this time. It was enough to convince Yoongi that you were ready for more. “You always let out the prettiest sounds for me.”

He pulled out all the way only to slam back in, the intrusion earning him a throaty moan, louder than the last. Grinning, he kept up the slow yet deep thrusts, balls slapping against your ass with every rock of his hips into yours.

Yoongi felt the best kind of dizzy, like he had smoked a blunt right before sliding into your cunt. There were only two instances where he felt this invincible and on top of the world. One, whenever he fucked your sweet pussy as he pleased. Two, when he had secured a multi-million dollar deal. Luckily for him, he had checked both boxes today. The adrenaline high he had gotten this morning at the office still ran through his veins and only fueled his desire to fuck you harder and drive your body into the mattress.

Unfortunately, he had been pent up for so long that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to give it to you like you deserved. He had been hard for God knew how long… And hadn’t had sex in almost two whole months. No wonder he felt his control slipping much faster than usual.

“Missed your cock so much,” you sobbed, hiccuping as he drove into you harder. “Thought about it every night.

“I promise I’ll never keep it away from you this long ever again.”

“Good.” Your lashes fluttered as he ground his hips into yours, pelvis rubbing against your needy clit. “Ah!”

Yoongi’s rhythm stuttered as he adjusted your legs, throwing one over his shoulder in order to reach deeper. “Missed this tight cunt. Craved it so much, I dreamt of it. Imagined you bouncing on my lap during those board meetings, bending you over the conference table and taking you in front of all of my associates. I’d let them watch, let them watch you take my cock from behind like a filthy whore.”

He abandoned his deep thrusting for quicker, shallow strokes. “Fuck, I can feel you tighten. You going to cum all over my cock for me? Did you like the idea of me fucking you in a room full of people that much?”

Yoongi’s groan of pleasure was drowned out by your scream of ecstasy. The way you clenched down like a vice was almost enough to destroy the last of his control. He gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring as he drove into you even deeper, determined to see you fall apart one last time.

Knowing that it wouldn’t take many more thrusts before he’d be pushed over the edge, he reached down between your legs to rub at your clit. You thrashed under him, over stimulated but forced to take it. If it wasn’t for his firm grip on your legs, you would have tried to buck him off.

“Ah, Yoongi! Yoongi, I’m—” You sucked in a gulp of air as your eyes rolled back. “Oh God!”

“That’s right. Cream my cock, slut,” he hissed, his shirt sticking to him uncomfortably. His fringe was matted with sweat, but he couldn’t push it out of his face, not now, not when he was so fucking close.

His thumb flicked over your clit in rough circles, knowing exactly what you needed to be pushed over the edge.

It seemed to do the trick—seconds later and he felt you break into a violent climax, pussy gushing all over his cock and muscles clamping down on him with every contraction.

Yoongi could hold it back no longer. His last thrusts were quick and rough, cock throbbing painfully as he chased his end. Hips slamming into yours, he snarled between clenched teeth, “You better take it all.”

He thought he felt your pussy throb around him as he released himself inside you, cum spurting so deep he was sure he’d painted your cervix white.

For a while, only the whirring of the ceiling fan and the sound of rapid beating of hearts could be heard. Yoongi knew he should probably go clean up and throw his soiled clothes and sheets into the hamper, but his muscles had gone lax and refused to cooperate.

You rolled onto your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows. He cracked open an eye when he heard you clear your throat.  

“So? Threesome? How did we feel about that?”

“Are you asking me?” Seokjin asked incredulously and Yoongi finally remembered there was an extra presence on their bed. When you shrugged then nodded, Seokjin snorted. “Do you always conduct polls after sex?”

Yoongi was similarly unimpressed. “No one else can make you cum as hard as I do. Remember that.”

.

 .

.

.

“So this is the young man you told me so much about,” drawled Yoongi.

Jungkook’s spine straightened, the man’s low timbre doing things to his insides.

When you had announced that he’d finally be able to meet your husband, Jungkook had readily agreed, looking forward to having his curiosity finally sated.

After one unsuccessful online search, Jungkook had given up on figuring out what kind of man you had married. His imagination had pictured a middle-aged man with a beer belly who occasionally liked to play polo.

Jungkook gulped audibly, realizing he couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Of fucking course his boss had to be ridiculously handsome. With his clear skin, delicately shaped nose and lips, and small, sharp eyes that had Jungkook averting his gaze, Mr. Min was so handsome that Jungkook was left bereft of speech.

Unaware of his inner crisis, Yoongi filled the awkward silence with ease. “I believe we’ve exchanged over the phone. You may address me as Yoongi, if you so wish. My wife tells me how hard you work. I wanted to personally thank you for all your efforts. I know it’s not an easy task to work in such weather conditions.”

Oh god. They talked about him. Together.

He cleared his throat. “I’m just doing my job, sir.”

Yoongi held out his hand for him to shake. His hands were so delicate looking that the force behind his grip took Jungkook by surprise. Yoongi’s gaze never strayed, trapping him in place. Jungkook felt like a prey with nowhere to hide.

“It was a pleasure working for the both of you.” He managed without stuttering like a fool. “If ever you need me for anything else, don’t hesitate. I’ve done some gardening before and I’m ok with the odd paint jobs.”

Jungkook bit his lip and ceased his rambling. Embarrassed, he scratched the back of his neck.

“I’ll be sure to remember that.”

Yoongi let the corners of his mouth curl into a smirk. He turned towards you as he watched Jungkook gather the rest of his belongings and take his leave. “You’re right. He is cute.”

“I’m always right,” you said in a distracted manner, mind elsewhere.

“You were awfully silent earlier. Hm? Not very polite.” One of his hands squeezed the dip at your waist.

You didn’t bother suppressing your glare. Yoongi merely chuckled, amused by your predicament. “I was otherwise busy.”

“Oh? But don’t you think Jungkookie would’ve enjoyed seeing my cum dripping out of your greedy pussy?” he asked, the lilt in his tone teasing. “He looked absolutely taken with you. Kept admiring your legs—not that I blame him.”

His hands played with the hem of your brazenly short dress, lifting the fabric up your thighs to uncover your naked mound.

“Would’ve been nice to treat him for all his hard work,” he commented as his fingers dipped into your hole to play with the cum he had fucked into you not even an hour ago. “And seeing cum paint your pretty thighs would have been quite the gift.”

“Yo-oongi,” you moaned his name, clenching your core as tightly as you could, not wanting to spill a single drop. “I think, ah, I think he wouldn’t have liked s-seeing your cum go to waste.”

“Is that so?”

“He looked more taken with you than with me,” you said between heavy pants. One of your hands had closed around Yoongi’s wrists in warning—you were still on the front porch for God’s sake there were kids in the neighborhood—but it hadn’t deterred him in the least. On the contrary, his fingers plundered your depths, determined to get you to drench his whole hand.

“Well…” Yoongi smiled, gums on display, as your body shuddered from head to toe. fin

“There’s only one way to test that theory out, isn’t there?”

.

.

[xianglingslesbian]

oh I'll give u a character alright: Izuki, Kiyoshi, Riko and Aomine <333 technically that's four, but what goes around comes around (I'll keep this circle of love goin forever buddy)

VICCCC ily my man <33 thank u!!! aight putting this under a cut bc it got long

Izuki

Why I like them: izuki’s just overall so amazing! he inspires me to give my best in the stuff i do, and although it sounds a bit silly i try to be a person that he’d be proud of. his puns are hilarious and well-thought-out (as a person who loves words and word jokes, i’m naturally drawn to him lol). they’re also a way to take the heat off the team, he’s so hardworking and never views obstacles as obstacles, rather as hills he must climb to find newer skies. he’s also rather clever and employs his brains to great effect when his body fails him! izuki embodies the meaning of ‘eagle’ in the truest sense - waiting to strike when the time is right and not failing when it is.

Why I don’t: *sweats* can’t really think of a reason i don’t like izuki, at all??? i guess he can overwork himself a lot and tends to keep his true emotions hidden which could lead to misunderstandings between friends (although this is totally headcanon territory lol)... i also didn’t like the ableist comment he passed on hayama (“i’m just glad you weren’t smarter than me”). but i think he can (and will!) grow from that kind of stuff, he is that kind of person so yeah no particular reason for me to dislike him at all

Favorite episode (scene if movie): how dare you make me pick s3 e8 izuki vs kasamatsu, hands down. i know its like cliche or whatever but that moment just told me so much about izuki as a character? he’s willing to do what it takes to win, he’s adaptable and dependable and he doesn’t let shit get him down ever. it’s gorgeous

Favorite season/movie: s3, he got some fantastic moments in there!! although i will say i loved the spotlighting he got in s1 in the seihō match

Favorite line: “Fear isn't a bad thing. There are some things that can only be done by cowards.” this is first of all such a nice thing to say. ‘fear is not bad’ is just... so fucking wise? keep in mind that this boy is 17, i’ve met 30 year olds who are less mature. secondly it feels like izu’s speaking from experience?? like he has a lot to be scared of, i’m sure. particularly of falling behind and being a burden to his teammates. but it’s that ‘cowardice’ that drives him to practice so so hard. that visceral terror of weighing on seirin is what pushes izuki beyond his limits - which is why here he can empathise with furi’s fear, and knows how best to employ it.

Favorite outfit: look i hate last game w/ a passion but that lil tie/shirt/hoodie thing he had going? that was literally so cute. izuki in general has a p great fashion sense but his last game outfit takes the cake <3

OTP: hyuuizu oh my god i could talk for years about them but since this post is gonna be very long i’ll refrain. just. they are perfect they are fucking perfect

Brotp: kiyoizu!! kiyoshi is izuki’s biggest enabler and i love that for him <3

Head Canon: izuki can be very very passive aggressive when he’s angry at someone/sad and gets cold and withdrawn. it’s not fun to experience but tbh if you upset him you probably deserve it

Unpopular opinion: izuki should’ve been naturally better in canon. it’s not fair to shaft him and give the ‘trier’ thing off to himuro. that being said i am p happy with who he is as a person

A wish: i want to know how izuki felt after middle school! izuki’s and riko’s backstory focuses so much on hyuuga its dumb >:( he also would’ve been demoralised but he didn’t quit bball and i would like to know his thought process!

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: i. uh. i guess izu quitting basketball. because i genuinely cannot see that happening. it brings him so much joy, he should never stop cold turkey. i can imagine old man izuki hobbling about a court giving little kids pointers and making them laugh T-T

5 words to best describe them: “big brain caffeine-powered clown baby” 

My nickname for them: babyzuki/izu/shunshun

Kiyoshi

Why I like them: lots of reasons! kiyoshi is an admirable person. he’s strong, yet friendly and gentle, and he loves his team above all else, which i just find beautiful. i find his manipulative side also pretty cool, bc it shows off how multifaceted he is.

Why I don’t: this is more of a fandom reason but i really dislike how kiyoshi is always said to have had the greatest impact in hyuuga’s story. he badgered and manipulated hyuuga, and while some may argue hyuuga needed that push, it only worked bc hyuuga had had time to think about shit. he’d also been given space by riko and izuki (two integral parts of his life whom the fandom looooves to sideline for uwu kiyo//hyuu). 

Favorite episode (scene if movie): yousen match (can’t pick the episodes)! i loved the backstory we got for kiyo vs mura and i loved how kiyoshi was willing to smile and play but also refused to lose. he truly stole the show despite kagami being the one to finally take down murasakibara, it was gorgeous <3

Favorite season/movie: s2 for sure. kiyoshi wasn’t allowed to shine much after yousen imo - all the focus was on hyuuga kagami and kuroko, and to a lesser extent izuki. not complaining, but yeah

Favorite line: “Let’s go have some fun.” i know it’s kinda cliche but i do love how kiyoshi’s always thinking about playing a good game and enjoying basketball. he wants to play because he loves it and as someone who loves a sport as much as kiyoshi loves b-ball, that love is so poignant and tender

Favorite outfit: practice clothes! kiyoshi looks great in pink <3

OTP: kiyohana. hateshipping amirite ;)

Brotp: kiyohyuu! i love them as friends so so much <3

Head Canon: kiyoshi is half-iranian on his mother’s side and is muslim. i won’t say too much because i am not muslim myself, i need to do more research into this but i’ve had this headcanon for quite a while now!

Unpopular opinion: he should be bullied more for the fact that his canon power is having yaoi hands

A wish: kiyo finds something he loves as much as b-ball. he can’t canonically play at this level again, so if he found another sport/competition/anything, it’d be amazing

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: he should never become demoralised. kiyoshi at heart is a dreamer, so let him dream, let him look towards tomorrow with a smile always

5 words to best describe them: “useless dreamy dumbass cheerleader clown”

My nickname for them: kiyoyo, bc my feelings about him have yo-yoed a lot lmao

Riko

Why I like them: im a lesbian, next. /j i love her because she’s so tenacious and driven. yet she’s also kind and gentle, and never loses her humanity. she cares, and she cares hard. she’s so fucking smart too like... coaching a hs basketball team at 17 against players of NBA calibre and making them win? i could never. seirin without riko is nothing.

Why I don’t: i dont like the constant slapstick of her beating up her boys. also, i dislike how the narrative forces her to act ‘feminine’ and then has the boys think of it as nothing. like first of all if someone like her offered me a kiss i would so take 100, and secondly... why is a girl’s worth so tied to her femininity? it’s awful

Favorite episode (scene if movie): her sending in furi vs kaijō, early in s3. it was an exceedingly smart move that could have only come from her knowing her players’ strengths and weaknesses intimately, and being a brilliant coach. just amazing <3

Favorite season/movie: all of them! riko has some amazing moments each season, so i can’t really pick

Favorite line: “Humans grow. Don't act like you understand when you don't even realize that!” here, riko knows and knows well that she is in her element. momoi might have the data, but riko understands adaptability and knows how to predict stuff. in that way, one can draw parallels between takao vs izuki and momoi vs riko: takao and momoi are recon experts, whereas riko and izuki are strategists. momoi uses raw data; riko manipulates the data to her advantage

Favorite outfit: idk if this is exactly an outfit but her glasses are so cute oh my gosh. (i’d kill to see her in a leather jacket tho)

OTP: rikomomo!!! i’m 100% sure that momoi’s fixation w/riko’s boobs is just... repressed lesbian sentiments. also sports girlfriends gimme

Brotp: hyuuizuriko. i hc that hyuuizu were tgt since elementary school and riko joined them in middle school so... childhood friends feels!

Head Canon: riko knows how to shoot a gun. her father owns one so it makes sense

Unpopular opinion: riko does not need to have bigger boobs in fanart. please stop sexualising a 17 year old girl

A wish: white suit riko please

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: her ever leaving behind sports in any way shape or form. it’s her thing. in the same vein, she should never have to change herself or become more traditionally feminine to be ‘appealing’

5 words to best describe them: perfect perfect perfect perfect perfect

My nickname for them: ai/riri

Aomine

Why I like them: aomine is just a pure, hurting young man that deserves help. he’s passionate, and his fire died down out of no fault of his own. that fire’s reignition through kagami is one of my favorite scenes <3

Why I don’t: he’s perverted as hell and i dislike that. it plays into the ‘brutish dark-skinned pervert’ stereotype which is yikes. also i thought we were done with pervs in anime

Favorite episode (scene if movie): s2 seirin v touou when kagami enters the zone!! aomine’s finally happy and it’s so amazing to watch <3

Favorite season/movie: s2, he finally got happiness and peace of mind

Favorite line: “You’re the best!” there’s just so much of pure joy in this line. he’s so so beside himself that he finally has someone he won’t destroy. kagami sees aomine the person, and that person is so happy, it’s beautiful

Favorite outfit: the leather jacket from the finale lmaooo he looked so cute

OTP: AOKAGA BABY i could write an essay tbh

Brotp: aomomo!! theyre such good friends and bi/lesbian solidarity too!

Head Canon: aomine cannot dance. he has stepped on kagami’s feet multiple times. he has also attempted to twerk when drunk. kuroko recorded the whole thing and uses it as blackmail in case the puppy eyes and “but aomine-kun you didn’t fist bump me back” don’t work

Unpopular opinion: more a fandom thing, but you all need to stop making aomine the aggressive/possessive top/‘seme’. it’s racist as fuck

A wish: aomine goes pro. it’ll be amazing for him, a huge challenge and kagami will be there too so its a win-win ;)

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: he quits again/b-ball loses its allure. aomine at heart is someone who needs passion to drive him so i just want that passion to always burn bright within him

5 words to best describe them: “bastard baby needs a hug”

My nickname for them: dai-chan, momoi rubbed off on me

[amphtaminedreams]

A/W 2020 Fashion Month & Top 20 Collections: Before Vogue Went Blank (Part 4)

Hi all,

Welcome to part 4! It’s gonna be a bit of a shorter one because I wasn’t sure if I could fit the last few collections into my part 3 since I also want to include a ranking of my favourite F/W20 shows. I have so many ideas for what I’d like my next few posts to be (there’ll probably be a bit of gap between them as I would like to try and get some fiction writing in too) and I need help and recommendations on one post in particular so I thought I’d open by explaining that if anyone would like to send me suggestions! The post is basically going to highlight the often under-appreciated personal style of PoC, and I’d also like to make sure I include all types of bodies and genders and ethnicities (other than white girls, as we get enough credit as it is, all a tall, skinny blonde woman has to do is wear some light wash jeans, heels and a blouse and high fashion Twitter are posting non-stop about how incredible her style is)! This can be a celebrity, a model, an influencer or even just one of your friends if you think they deserve some hype too! Obviously there’s only so many photos I can include but I will make sure to look at any suggestions, though of course I’m gonna be biased towards the grungier looks; I gave Dolls Kill a pass for a long time because I thought the brand had changed and become more responsible over the last few years but since Shoddy Lynn’s thoughtless Instagram post during the protests last month and then her lacklustre response video, I say fuck that “goth is white” bullshit, alternative black women are hot af. I’ll also make sure to include a list of my favourite black owned clothing lines I’ve seen people talking about on Twitter and Instagram so again, if you have any suggestions feel free to inbox me. Other than that, I have a couple of lookbooks planned and after, either a post about my favourite shows for style inspiration OR a lookbook depending on whether I have the clothes to do it already/can source a few things from Depop-Depp-I’ve made a commitment not to buy anything new for the next couple of months and I want to stick to that this time round! I’d also like to do a general collation of my favourite summer outfits, an almost scrapbook-y kinda post, and another post on some of my favourite fashion icons (I’ll probs end up repeating a lot of the women from the post I was talking about above but I’ll try and include different outfits to keep it varied!). 

Now, into the final part, and the top 20, starting with Tory Burch (I’m really pissed off because I added an unnecessary E in after the R and now Tumblr is once again being stupid and not saving any of my editing changes-also I said on the next post instead of in in the last paragraph and my anal-retentiveness is kicking into high gear). 

You’d think it’s a kinda anti-climatic one to open with but I do like this collection! It reminds me a bit of last season’s Miu Miu but more so of Brock’s general aesthetic, though with more layers and in some ways to its detriment, a lot more wearable. Looking like something from a bygone era is part of what gives Brock its mystique, but Burch’s designs are practically made for the Chelsea born and bred lifestyle blogger who dresses for a cold spell in the Coachella valley all year long and treats trawling Pimlico’s furniture shops and meeting their girlfriends for coffee like it’s a full-time job. She’s probably born into money and doesn’t work all that hard but hey, she looks angelic holding a bouquet of flowers and in 2020 we all low-key want her life, right? It’d go against my ethics but...*whispers* it would be nice to be that girl just for a couple of days. It is a gorgeous collection, with a lush colour palette and an ever graceful variety of prints and textures, and it toes the line of being accessible and being worthy of a fashion week spot with dexterity. 8/10 and it only loses marks because it’s safe for the brand.

When it comes to Valentino, they’re a pretty reliable favourite for me, and this season’s collection doesn’t break tradition; this one is slightly grittier than usual too which is a big win for me. Whilst the usual sophistication and delicate details are there, quirky embroidery, sequins and tulle, we also get a lot of leather and more black than usual, which I pray doesn’t a herald a return to people thinking “I only own black clothes and listen to Artic Monkeys” is a personality trait. I don’t know if it’s intentional, but there seems to be a lot of aquatically inspired pieces in this collection too; the 3d roses resemble scales to me (and are a really unique texture), and the way the tulle is placed kinda reminds me of fins and has a mermaid on land feel. It wouldn’t surprise me, since Valentino does tend to draw from nature quite a bit. Highs for me were the Valentino red tulle piece and the tulle pieces in general, of course with the embroidered florals as well which the basic bitch in me always looks forward to. The few lows were concentrated in the leopard print section, a print that for me is really overdone and reminds me of recent Dolce and Gabbana. It was cool when layered with the matching coat but I otherwise could’ve done without it.

Vera Wang is another one of my reliable faves-I think I like this collection even more than the last, it really is a fucking DREAM. The overly floral pieces I wasn’t too keen on but I’ll ignore that on the basis that as with Gucci, the tulle-harness combo is everything I look for in a dress and more. I know manic-pixie-dream-girl is a bit of a slur (not a slur slur but you know what I mean) in terms of the associated character, but this 90s Courtney Love grunge twist on that aesthetic is gold, fully realised big anarchist fairy energy (which is a screen name I’m surprised I don’t see more often and which I might now steal). These dresses were made for someone like Zoe Kravitz or FKA Twigs on the red carpet, and if god forbid I somehow ever ended up on one, I would go to the ends of the earth to be wearing one of the dresses from this collection. Aside from the dresses, I appreciated the moody doesn’t-want-to-be-at-the-family-function teenager inspired sleeves and the 2014 Tumblr Cruel Intentions style knee high socks. Love, love, LOVE it.

So, Versace started off strong with the all black looks-the cut outs were cute if impractical and the fit and flare trousers in particularly were really well fitted (from a distance, at least). I hated the film Red Sparrow but the visuals were very cool, and this section reminded me of that, like a high fashion collection based on Jennifer Lawrence’s character. There were some stunning colour combos in the Ashish like hyper-floral part too, and the houndstooth, marble and Versace tile prints were sick. The black jumper with the flowers on reminds me of a jumper of my nan’s I always wanted that my aunty ended up donating to a charity shop after she died not knowing I liked it. Gutted (not just about the jumper obviously, looool).

HOWEVER, as with many 91 look collections, it was sloppy at times. A lot of pieces I at first liked (I.E the silver dress we saw Kendall Jenner in, included above) are kind of unfinished up close. There was also a big varsity inspired section which was nice at times but got pretty repetitive and occasionally looked like it could pass for Jack Wills or a bad Michael Kors collection. On the whole, it had both its pros and its cons which puts it directly in the middle of the pack.

Victoria Beckham’s collection is near the lower-middle quartile when it comes to plotting the highs and lows of the F/20 collections. The pieces are pretty and accessible, I’d definitely wear them, but they’re predictable and mostly a rip-off of other brands who did something similar in a more interesting way. Though her collections are never really experimental, this one is particularly safe, and she and whoever helped design this season’s pieces were clearly avoiding the edges of the box like a child playing the floor is lava. It’s alright, and I hate coming towards the end of the post with negativity, but I have to be honest, and this just doesn’t really interest me beyond a “yeah, that’s nice” glance.

Vivienne Westwood, on the other hand, is always interesting whether I would actually wear it myself or not. Despite the mix and matchiness that is essential to the deconstructed look, which being the basic bitch I am I often struggle to see past, there were some gorgeous pieces and eurgh, I could really talk about that Bella Hadid look all day. The contrast between the exaggerated femininity of the waist cinchers against the androgyny of the less structured, oversized pieces is a really interesting one and the colour combinations work beautifully together. I also love the idea behind the collection, which is, in the words of Andreas Kronthaler about “rites of spring, and the good and the bad, and conflict, and the good prevailing over evil”. Ahhh, I hear you say. THAT’S what’s with the garlic necklace. Can I get another pat on the back for summing up this collection as “vampire slaying uniform” in my notes? I mean, that’s kind of a good vs. evil situation, isn’t it? I know it’s hard to ignore how hot vampires always are in TV series and movies but just think of the true forms of the ones off Penny Dreadful and remember THEY DRINK BLOOD (I personally think being a vampire would be really cool, just need to work out how to do it “ethically”).

Lastly, Zimmerman, and I really can’t say how happy I am to end on a positive note because this collection was stunning. Not without all the characteristically ornate, indulgent and painstakingly detailed efforts we’ve come to expect from Nicky and Simone Zimmerman, these looks (in an icy winter themed colour palette as well) are the offspring of a sophisticated flower child and a 70s glam rocker and I think with this sentence I’ve finally put my style aspirations into words. Honestly, give me the money to produce a modern day Almost Famous and I’ll make my character this no-nonsense intersectional feminist front woman of a fictional Haim-like band who sings with the voice of an angel but is rock and roll as fuck and eats men for breakfast and I’ll put her in this collection and (deep breath) it would be ICONIC. There. Got to the point eventually. Am I talking about a 2020s version of Steve Nicks? Possibly. After all, I do have a framed illustration of her on my wall. But regardless, I need those lace-up velvet BOOTS, that mesh dress with the celestial embroidery, the flame detail pieces, the white pussy bow blouse with the eyes on it. Everything is sooo dreamy; when I was looking through the collection for my favourites, I saved pretty much every. single. look. IT’S EVERYTHING I STRIVE TO BE. WHY CAN’T I AFFORD ZIMMERMAN GOD DAMN IT!?

See, I’ll be going on about Zimmerman in a couple of paragraphs again because it will be very high in my top 20, which I’m so glad is a top 20 BTW. I know I said it would be a top 10 in my last post because I thought that was how I structured it last time but I double checked and it is 20, which is a relief; once again, picking only 10 collections would be very hard. SO! Let’s get into it!

1. Gucci

I hate being predictable but Gucci once again holds the top spot for me. How could I not love this? I would say that I hope Alessandro Michele fucks up next season so I don’t come off as a boot licker but when the boots in question are platform Mary Janes and knee high socks and they’re underneath tulle with BDSM inspired harnesses on top...maybe boot sole doesn’t taste so bad after all.

2. Zimmerman

Well, I did say it wouldn’t be long until you were seeing the same outfits again, so at least you know my word is good.

3. Moschino

Wow, as if putting Gucci first again wasn’t bad enough, Moschino’s also a non-mover. But...Marie Antoinette this season and Picasso last? And this campy? It’s like Jeremy Scott reached into my brain magician-into-a-top-hat-style, picked out an interest of mine at random, and tried to communicate this to me through the medium of design with THE most chaotic energy humanly possible. I an only commend the man, because he succeeded, and I approve. It’s weird because before I always saw Jeremy Scott’s designs as tacky and yet I’ve loved all the collections I’ve reviewed, so I must ask...are the collections getting less tacky or am I getting more tacky? Much to think about.

4. Vera Wang

The battle armour of a punk princess. Not very good at protecting against knives, arrows, bullets or...anything really, but I’ve never really been the kind of person to get into physical fights (apart with a bouncer who tried to push me down the stairs once at an ABBA night but I was really drunk and she was mean, alright!?), so who cares? Nobody can make you do anything in dresses this pretty.

5. Lanvin

I’m a few years behind everyone else but I’m still on the Mad Men hype train and I don’t ever want to get off. All I wish is that Betty Draper had *SPOILERS* divorced Don’s detty arse earlier and rode off into the sunset in that white Bella Hadid coat with the red lip to match (or the checkered one above will do).

6. Etro

As long as she remains the queen of dreamy bohemian fashion, I’m not gonna do Etro dirty by putting her any lower than this ever again on the basis that she’s not conceptual enough which ashamedly is what I implied in my last ranking-yes, Etro is a she because just as most women deserve more from men, she is beautiful and deserves better than my previous disrespect! I said what I said. 

7. Dilara Findikoglu

I see your Thom Browne and your Commes Des Garcons and I raise you my “weird”-though-not-actually-that-weird-at-all-can-we-all-just-dress-like-this-on-a-day-to-day-basis-please? fave, Dilara.

8. Paco Rabanne

Battle armour that actually COULD protect you against knives, arrows, and bullets. Maybe. Well, you’d hope so anyway for the price.

9. Rodarte

Suddenly my phobia of spiders has evaporated. And no, it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that these ones are diamond encrusted, what are you on about?

10. Alberta Ferretti

The colour combinations in this collection were stunning. Honestly. I just picked a really bad pic to illustrate that. Go read my first post to see (grifting 101: complete)!

11. Charlotte Knowles

I saw Bella Hadi wearing a Charlotte Knowles two piece, so I bought a Charlotte Knowles two piece. 

LMAOOO, I wish.

12. Balenciaga

It’s occurred to me a couple of posts too late now on the basis that Tumblr is being a dick and won’t go back and let me edit stuff, even little typos, but I’m now wondering if there’s a link between the climate change theming of the show and the exaggerated structures of the pieces? Ya know, the whole abundance is killing the planet line of thinking? I know analysis isn’t exactly on brand with these silly mini captions and that oversized and exaggerated proportions is one of Balenciaga’s running motifs anyway buuut just a thought I had! And sidenote: I do believe overconsumption is killing the planet! The way I phrased that made it seem like I’m a climate change denying dickhead! That I am not! Maybe if I shave my head, legally change my name to Steve, get a British flag tattoo on my bicep, and spend every waking moment in my nearest Spoons I’ll get there but it’s not on the agenda quite yet!

13. Christopher Kane

If fashionable robots took over the world, they’d raid Christopher Kane’s studio and fry us all with laser beams whilst wearing his dresses.

14. Fendi

Siri, play Vroom Vroom by Charli XCX.

15. Olivier Theyskens 

Mandarin collar. Mandarin collar. Mandarin collar. NEXT TIME I WILL REMEMBER WHAT THE PROPER NAME IS INSTEAD OF NEEDING TO GOOGLE IT AGAIN. Come on brain, you’re supposed to be good at this kinda thing, make it happen.

16. Elie Saab

Blair Waldorf’s wet dream. Add in some platform boots and chain jewellery and now it’s my wet dream too.

Because Chuck Bass is creepy as FUCK and maybe it’s because I watched Gossip Girl at the ripe old age (lol) of 21 and most people watch it as teenagers but I don’t know why YOU WERE ALL SO OBSESSED WITH HIM! He tries to sexually assault Jenny who is about 14 in the VERY FIRST EPISODE. I think I went off on a tangent here but it had to be said. You girls have no taste.

Don Draper was an absolute dog, but he was played by Jon Hamm, and he might be one of the finest men on the planet. What’s your excuse, Chuck and Blair enthusiasts?

17. Miu Miu

As someone who has probably been/met many a spoilt brat in her time, I appoint Miu Miu as the official sponsor of the Spoilt Brat™ aesthetic and yeah, that’s something I just made up but I’m on the money here. Imagine one of those “daddy, can you get me a pony?” types all grown up. Are you telling me you don’t picture her in Miu Miu? Because that sounds like a lie.

18. YSL

The war flashbacks I get of the Friends episode where Ross tries to get out of those leather trousers aside (I know it’s PVC her not leather but they have the same sheen, you can’t deny it), these outfits turn me into the irl version of the heart eyes emoji. It’s not like I think this is the best collection I’ve ever seen, YSL could def push the boat out a bit in terms of experimentation, but there aren’t many people who wouldn’t look hot as fuck in one of these pieces

19. Balmain

I didn’t like ALL of it, but the looks that I did like were amongst the ones that stuck out to me most when I was reflecting on the collections I’ve reviewed: the breast plates and silk capes and the scorpion detailing are real chef’s kiss moments.

20. Marques Almeida

Miss the collection that gave us this coat off the list? Never.

SO!

That is the end! Wow! I started saving the photos for this review back in late January/early February or whenever it was that the first fashion week began and now it’s mid-fucking July!? I don’t know if that speaks more to my incompetency or what a state the last few months have been. I’m not gonna write a super long ending paragraph because you’ve heard enough from me already and it’s 2:30am and I’m being hassled by Trump supporters on Twitter (literally just for stating that it’s a privilege to be able to pursue a career you truly have a passion for rather than having to be practical about finances first) anddddd I’ve got a closing shift tomorrow so I should probably log the fuck off and remove my clown makeup before it’s time to start my shift, lol!

Quick recommendation before I wrap this up, there was a really interesting debate on ITV literally a few hours ago on the Stephen Lawrence case that I thought I would recommend (they also showed the 1999 dramatic portrayal of events afterwards) about racism in England and whether or not much has changed since the murder. I didn’t catch the whole thing but from what I did see, there were some really strong points being made and I think it could be a good thing to sit and watch with your family members if you want to get talking about the Black Lives Matter movement and aren’t sure how to broach the topic. I bring it up because I feel like most middle-aged white people trust ITV so they’re less likely to turn their noses up (lol, I wish I was joking) at it and maybe go in with a more open mind. I’d like to keep the conversation about social issues going so if there’s anything you’d like me to get some information together on and make a post about-I read yesterday that there’d been arrests of THE PEOPLE PROTESTING the way Breonna Taylor’s death has been handled. No, not the police officers responsible for her death, the people simply pointing out that those police officers have done wrong. It’s a ridiculous situation and just shows how deeply embedded a police officer’s supposed right to kill and to use force is in upholding the American status quo. I wish I could end the post on better news, but let’s hope that next time I post, there is some, and as always thank you for reading til the end if you did get this far! I really don’t have all that many followers on here but do et me know if there’s anything I can reblog or share to help.

Lauren x

[supposed2bfunny]

2doc Week Day 5-Quarantine

This one’s a tad longer, so putting it under a ‘read more.’ Just some really insipid shenanigans for this day’s prompt!

“You ready, Muds?”

“This is an astonishing waste of time, Stu—”

“On three, then?”

“…fine.”

“Great! One, two, three…go!” 2D jumped out of his room, a little confused to find that Murdoc was already standing in the hallway, staring at him. “Hey, you cheated.”

“I came out on three, you came out on go. You just said ‘on three—‘"

“Well yeah, but you count to three and then you—”

��Nevermind,” he cut him off, smirking. “Mate, you look ridiculous.”

“You’re one to talk!” 2D clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle the giggle that threatened to end the sentence in a highly undignified high pitch.

Murdoc was dressed in the clothes 2D had worn in their “Saturnz Barz” video, complete with a pair of blue trousers that looked uncomfortably tight, belted way above his paunch, and a black button-down, opened to reveal a tempting tuft of coarse hair. His chest looked alien without his usual upside-down cross. Without thinking, the singer reached up to his own chest, where the cross sat between his skin and the worn material of Murdoc’s striped jumper.

“Those pants look more like capris on you!” the bassist cackled, pointing at his bare ankles.

“Shut up! The jumper suits me quite well, don’t you think? The color brings out my hair. Least I don’t look like the male whore in some B-movie!”

“Mate,” Murdoc was still laughing, and having a hard time getting his words out. “You can’t say I look like a whore when I’m dressed as you!”

“I wore that outfit better than you!”

“Great, so can we agree that we both look completely mental?”

“I don’t think that’s entirely fair; I think I pull off your frumpiness like a model!”

“That jumper was designed for someone with a complexion more like my own.”

“Green, you mean green skin?”

“Well, I guess green is a state of mind,” he grumbled, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “So slip into that mindset, turtledove, because for the rest of the day, you’re me.”

“Oh, I’ve had two decades to observe you, Muds,” he replied casually, leaning against the doorframe. “All I have to do is act drunk, shout every hour or so about how great my band is, and go out of my way to grate on everyone’s nerves. Easy. Think that mastering the nuance of my enigmatic personality will be way harder for you.”

The bassist-turned-frontman rolled his eyes and moved to brush past him. “All I have to do is not think for the rest of the day. This’ll be a bloody vacation, pet.”

“Hey wait, before we start officially, give me a kiss,” he requested, catching the shorter man by the simple gold necklace—his necklace—around his neck, dragging him in closer and pausing as their lips hovered over each other.

“Am I kissing you as Murdoc, or as 2D?”

“As hot as a little 2D-on-2D action sounds, I want a kiss from my boyfriend.”

“Needy bitch,” he chuckled, but he obliged, pressing the taller man against the wall and kissing him languidly, reaching underneath that hole-filled sweater to trace the cross against his boyfriend’s chest. “Let’s stick a pin in that idea, huh? Now then, shall we pop off? There’s a certain drummer I’m dying to pester with my extensive knowledge of zombie flicks.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go see if Noodle notices the difference—oh, careful!” He reached out quickly and caught the shorter man as he tripped over his slightly-too-big shoes. “Watch it, luv. Being me is a right safety hazard.”

Grinning mischievously, the two parted ways, and the man formerly known as 2D made for the living room, where Noodle could be found flipping through a magazine.

“Noods!” he crowed, doing his best to sound gruff and Stoke-on-Trent-y. “I’ve got some grrreat news! I tried a new skin-care product and it took decades off my skin. I’d say I look at least twelve years younger: what do you think?”

She glanced up and frowned. “What fresh stupidity is this?” she asked.

“Stupidity? Don’t be so rude, poppet, I look good don’t I? Don’t worry; there’s no shame in admitting that a bloke so many years your senior is more attractive than you, really.”

“2D,” she sighed. “Why are you impersonating Murdoc?”

“Impersonating? I am Murdoc!”

“Sure you are. And is Murdoc also Murdoc, or is he 2D?”

“Um…wait, I’m confused…” he paused to try and track what she’d just said, and he realized that  he had completely broken character. “Sod this! Your questions just show that you’re…you’re confused by my superior genius!” Yeah, that sounded about right.

She tapped the magazine on her lap impatiently. “I’m trying to gauge my astrological compatibility with Tessa Thompson right now,” she said. “Can you come back to be annoying and strange later?”

“Er…but I…”

“Get lost, Murdoc.”

She’d done it! She’d acknowledged his acting skills! Satisfied, he pumped his fist in celebration. “Right, enjoy flipping through that trashy magazine telling you what nail polish color will make Tesla love you! I’m going to sit here and watch my soaps!”

“It’s…nevermind.” She sighed, looking like she had a lot more to say, but no energy to say it, and ‘Murdoc’ cheerfully flounced across the room to grab the remote, moving with more spring in his step than he’d had in decades.

Meanwhile, Russel was in the kitchen, preparing himself a hoagie of epic proportions, having been inspired by one of his favorite cooking shows. Just as he was debating whether to opt for dill or bread and butter pickles (or both? life was short), a nicotine-laden pair of lungs cleared themselves right behind him.

“Oh no,” he said, spinning around. “I’m having ‘me time:’ whatever stupid scheme you’re up to, it can damn well wait, Murdo—” he froze, pickle jars in hand, and after a moment, he bent over in a ground-shaking belly laugh. “You look ridiculous!”

“W-wot d’yew mean, Russ?” he asked, pressing a finger to his lips in an attempt to look juvenile. “It’s me, 2D, innit?”

“Murdoc, that belt looks like it’s constricting your ribs, and your belly is about to pop out. What gives?”

“Nuffink gives, just fought I’d try on my old cloves from ‘Saturnz—”

“Man, if you don’t stop talking like that immediately, we’re going to have bigger problems than whatever wardrobe malfunction this is.”

“Easy, easy, big guy! I’ll cut back on the Cockney accent! Fortunately I’ve picked up the ability to speak a bit better in recent years. Can you understand me now?”

“Not at all,” he said dryly. “Why are you dressed like 2D?”

“Mate, I am 2D! The adorable and absentminded singer for our band!” the dark-haired 2D insisted stubbornly.

Russel stared at him, ready to launch into yet another insult. Then he considered the two pickle jars in his hands. “So uh,” he shrugged. “What day of quarantine is it?”

“Oh, seventy-three or seventy-four, something like that. But who’s counting?”

“So you two are just messing around because you’re bored.”

“Well, it’s more fun than making a sandwich, wouldn’t you say?” he asked, smirking, realizing 2D wasn’t really the smirking type, and settling on a softer smile.

Russel weighed his options, and decided the prospective entertainment value was too good to pass up. “Well then, ‘Dee,’ do you want to make this monster sandwich with me? You can regale me with stories of what it’s like in your head the whole time.”

Murdoc—no that wasn’t right—‘2D’ beamed at him and nodded. “I’d love nothing more! Could probably use some extra calories, frail little waif of a man that I am.”

“Oh yeah,” Russel agreed, playfully patting his middle-aged potbelly. “You’re a real waif. Now grab the mustard.”

“You got it, Russ! Yellow or spicy?”

“Yes!”

Several hours later found the singer and bassist reunited in 2D’s bedroom. They sat together, swapping their clothes back piece-by-piece: first 2D pulled the striped jumper over his head, then Murdoc unbuttoned the black shirt as though he were giving a strip tease. They giggled the whole time, each looking particularly relieved when their pants came undone and they could step into comfortable sweatpants once again.

“I’d say outfit-swap was a roaring success!” Murdoc said cheerfully, grabbing a sip of a lukewarm beer sitting on the bedside table.

“I don’t know about that…I think Noodle and Russel were just humoring us.”

“Well at first, sure,” he conceded, gracing the singer with a kiss as he reverently returned his cross necklace to him. “But I think that as we really got into character, they forgot that we were simply acting. Once this quarantine ends, we should head back to LA and reconsider the whole movie star thing!”

“I’ll pass on that,” he replied, pulling a face, then falling down onto his bed, motioning for Murdoc to finish his drink and join him. The older man happily obliged, and the mattress creaked slightly at their combined weight as they cuddled together. “So…what are we going to do tomorrow to annoy the others?”

“We could speak only in riddles the whole day!”

“What if I’m not smart enough for that?”

“Was that a riddle?” Murdoc asked, cackling as he got a poke in the ribs for the comment. “Gentle, gentle! I’ve got it: let’s speak the way people write your dialogue online.”

“Not the super Cockney?”

“That’s right! Let’s speak like Dick Van Dyke attempting to sound like a proper Brit! That’ll be a right laugh!”

“You’re so cruel: what did Noodle and Russel do to deserve you as their bandmate?”

“Hey,” he teased, “you were in on today’s game.”

“Fine, I’ll consider the Cockney schtick, but I think you can do better. Keep working on it.”

“Yes sir,” he agreed, nuzzling into the singer’s neck. “So, we still have the night ahead of us: what did you want to do?”

2D was quiet for long enough that he began to get a little suspicious. “Stu? Simple enough question, luv. What’s on that pretty mind of yours?”

“I was just thinking, Muds…” another long bout of silence.

“Yes?” he prodded.

“Would you still be up for that 2D-on-2D action we were joking about earlier?”

Murdoc pulled away from him abruptly, and he scrambled to follow the bassist, to apologize for the stupid suggestion. As he opened his mouth to voice his mortification and backtrack, Murdoc caught his eye with a playful smirk and slowly pulled his necklace off. “Mate,” he said, voice unusually high, like he was trying to imitate someone else, “I fought yew’d neva ask!”

[tellthemhowihope]

POSITIVE 20 QUESTIONS TAG GAME

i was tagged by @peanutbutterandgrapejelly. thank you drew! 💜 these questions were fun to think about 😊

1. Name 4 fictional characters who showcase your personality the best, with explanations if you want. (Drew - I also see a bit of myself in all of TFW and Charlie but for different reasons lmao)

sam winchester: sarcastic, empathetic, forgiving, patient with others, niche interests, introverted;

castiel: weird and specific sense of humor, supremely awkward and shy, but compassionate and ready to help others, introverted;

dean winchester: older sibling (younger sibling is the most important person in my life), feel things too strongly, bad temper, jokes to cover up emotions, repression queen!, hella bi, loves pie

charlie bradbury: nerdiness/geekiness (tho I lowkey hate compsci), fiction/fantasy to avoid the real world and problems, will fight existing power structures that prey on those who are struggling,

2. Aesthetic

i didn’t know what to say for this so i crowdsourced an answer and the gist seems to be “late 2000s cute nerd” so hopefully that means something to someone

3. Favorite musical/play? (If you’ve never seen a musical or play, one you’d be interested in seeing?)

basic but but I would love to see hamilton some day... I did see phantom in February though and it was beautiful!

4. What is the best compliment you’ve ever received?

I wish I knew where my elementary/middle school yearbooks were because some people wrote some surprisingly nice things that I can’t remember well enough to recount... but one of my friends said I was funny the other day and I’ve always thought I was funny for an audience of one (me) so I really appreciated that :)

5. How many times have you been in love?

a grand total of zero 😂

6. Embarrassing story or fact about yourself that makes you laugh now?

I’m pretty sure I’ve blocked out most of my most embarrassing memories because I can’t really think of anything good but I am a general disaster so I know that it must exist... but i still get teased for The Great Typo Incident of 2016 when I texted my friend “sex” instead of “sec” so there’s that

7. Favorite Disney/Pixar movie?

up and inside out (if you ask me to choose between the two I will show you a scene from one to distract you and make you cry)

8. Favorite flower or plant?

american chestnut tree and coconut tree cuz they hold a lot of memories and are very symbolic for me

9. What’s your favorite holiday?

thanksgiving for the pie, the people, the fall aesthetic, and my annual chance at a motorcycle ride with my uncle (though we always host so I don’t love the stress part)

10. Name three things that made you laugh or smile this past week.

last episode of legends of tomorrow: “my daughter told me to go hell. anyway, where are we going now?” “Hell” (I’m paraphrasing but it was very funny)

my sister post-anaesthesia for the first time, after she just got a tooth pulled

old convention videos w/ j2m as always

11. What song would you play to introduce yourself to someone?

honestly I’m too mercurial for something like this but at this precise moment, be still by the fray

12. Name something that truly makes you feel peaceful even at your most stressed moments.

really sad but calm music, thunderstorms, old videos of my sister

13. What do you, did you, or would you study at college?

I’m pre-med, choosing between the molecular, cellular, and developmental bio or cellular/molecular neuroscience majors, w/ chem and spanish minors

14. This is kind of a weird one, but which outfit of yours makes you feel most like yourself?

I have two cuz I’m indecisive: jeans with either knit sweater & combat boots OR t-shirt & cardigan, and sneakers

15. What is a quote you live by?

my senior quote, by misha: “be kind to yourself so you can be happy enough to be kind to the world”

16. Name the funniest playlist name you have.

I don’t think I have anything that’s particularly funny but my biggest playlist is called “when you can’t read” cuz that’s when I usually listen to it and my friends usually make fun of me for it lol

17. Make a reference to an inside joke you have with someone you love with zero context.

“could be something else”

18. What is a message you would give your younger self if given the chance?

once you finish how I met your mother, put the phone down and go do your homework. no more Netflix for you.

19. Who is your favorite family member? (If you have no good blood family members, feel free to mention someone in your found family)

immediate family - my sister

extended family would be my grandparents or my favorite cousin but I won’t name names in case one of them sees this 😉 (though I think we both know who everyone’s favorite cousin is)

20. What’s a secret dream of yours?

to feel at peace. idk my secret dreams are not very tangible lol

if anyone would like to play this, these are very thoughtful questions! @dishasterzone (just for 19 😘) @wanderingcas @demondeals @beefcakemish @fierydeans @mrrmiracle @lovedsammy @good-things-do-happen-dean @jaredpalalecki

no pressure, I know these are a little personal 💜